


Baldy and the Time Beast

by generic_handle



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M, baldy and the beast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2018-11-18 00:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 113,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11280030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generic_handle/pseuds/generic_handle
Summary: Saitama has always wanted to be a hero. He hears of a far off city made of gold that is under the reign of a terrible beast and decides that it's worth checking out. A golden castle, a large clock that marks the time twice a day and a young man imprisoned by them. Saitama knows nothing of magic or curses so it becomes not even a matter of if he can lift the curse, but a matter of if he should even try or want to?





	1. Origin Story

Tornado Peak lived up to its name. The bitter wind grasped at Saitama's cape, sinking cold fingers through every gap in his leather hides. He squinted his eyes against a particularly strong updraft, but his hands were sure in their grip, his boots sturdy on the rock.

This is what he had trained three years for, but as he neared the top, he felt no anticipation, no thrum of adrenaline. His ears only ached with the cold, and his fingers moved with purpose as he ascended. As he neared the top, he saw them. Dark stone creatures and humanoid shapes who were wind worn into barely recognizable shapes. He felt a glimmer of hope. He drove his pickaxe into the stony edge above, and swung himself skillfully over the lip of cliff. He lost his grip on the ax, and tumbled down a slope. He shielded his face and tried desperately to grab hold of anything that could stop his fall, kicked his legs out wildly to dig his heels into the stone, but it was worn smooth as glass here. Pain exploded through his side as he smashed into a stone statue. It broke his fall, but drove the air from his lungs, stealing the startled cry he would have given.

He was glad of it. He didn't want to alert the monster to his presence if it hadn't noticed him already. He choked back a sob as he pried himself from the statue and was horrified to see that it was worn down at it's back where the wind came from, but the side turned away from it was a man in full armor, screaming, eyes wide in terror. Saitama could see every wrinkle, every line, every subtle jut of vein, every eyelash preserved in stone and he had to consciously bite his cheek in order to focus on the task at hand. He had trained for this. He was his village's last hope. Maybe now, he could be the hero he dreamed about. Maybe now, the hermit hunter would be recognized as the village's protector and not some useless man.

It was make or break, so he gathered what little wits he possessed, and slid down the caldera the rest of the way. It was a deep depression in the mountain's head that indicated that the mountain was actually a sleeping volcano. In the fifteen minutes he slid down, he realized that ending up in the rainwater that collected in the basin was unavoidable and hoped he wouldn't freeze to death before he made it down the mountain. If the creature didn't kill him, the exposure would certainly finish the job.

He noted the misshapen lumps of stone, the way all the grass that the elevated land in the center was ashen gray. The wind howled and Saitama saw that the water rippled and crashed along the sides of its container like a small ocean. He tried to stop short of the surface of the lake, but ended up breaking his descent and pitching himself into the water headfirst.

He managed to pivot onto his side, and slammed into the floor of the lake. Laughter almost bubbled out of him in relief of his luck. The water was shallow, it tumultuous waving hiding its depth. He stood, and grimaced at his soaked pack. He would see what he could save of his rations later. He ran his hands through his hair and cursed his luck, but trudged on, the water pulling and pushing at his legs with a force that was shocking considering its depth. Even the bottom of the small lake was smooth, throwing him off balance, and it was slow work moving the the middle island. He finally reached the small raised piece of land, throwing himself onto it, legs burning with fatigue. He took a couple of long pulls from his waterskin, and abandoned his pack. Suddenly, it struck him.

His bow.

Hurriedly, he tore through its waxed leather case only to see what he feared.

The thick ebony, was cracked. It would probably break after one arrow.

He worried his lip with teeth, patting his leg where his knife sat in its sheath. It was only a hunting knife, something he used to gut and skin creatures. He never had to fight with it before and was unsure if he would survive this. The wind blew through him, chilling him numb.

He deserved to die here. He had been stupid enough to think that he could do this. He really was better off leaving these things to others. It had been fun at first. He had been playing at being a hero. He had trained his body, and even when he was coughing up blood, he had thought nothing of it. He had kept trying, willing to die for his dream. He had perhaps childishly overestimated the human ability to change.

He stood, shouldering his quiver and holding his bow, readying an arrow, not nocking it yet. The strain might snap his bow.

He dropped low into a crouch, steadily moving towards a heap of rocks at the center of the small isle. He breathed though his nose.

Make or break.

When he saw it, he startled. His shoulders drooped in relief and suddenly, he was drawing forward,” Hey! This is no place for kids!”

The child was feral-looking. Her hair was wildly writhing in the wind like snakes and coiled into thick, emerald curls. Her skin was sallow, sickly pale and she turned, a forked tongue slipping from pursed lips to scent the air.

Saitama tried to drop his gaze, heart punching in his chest but he was too late. Her eyes were twin gems of peridot cut through with the blackness of a moonless night and ringed with a glittering amber-gold. Saitama tried to breathe, tried to turn, but his limbs held fast. He couldn't take his eyes off of her even as she emerged from the safety of the rocks and then, he saw her in her full glory.

Her body was a long rope of scales ranging from spring yellow-green of her stomach, to the deep greens of an evergreen of her back. Her long reptilian tail propelled her forward, and her thin lips pulled back into a gleeful sneer. She had the inner mouth of a snake and he realized that she was the monster. This half-child-half-snake abomination was the fabled monster!

She threw her hands out and a cold wind spiraled into a tornado, ripping the bow from his hands and he felt a coldness creep through his skin, settling heavy on his person until he couldn't so much as twitch.

“Foolish mortal,” she snickered,” My beautiful visage shall be the last you see. How fortunate for you.”

His vision went dark and he felt his fear seize him. All this effort for nothing! Three years of training.

His lungs burned for air, but would not move. His head swam and he sickeningly felt like he was falling. His face burned, and he madly wished he had been able to scratch his nose before he had gotten frozen for all eternity!

He tried to sigh and the stone held him fast.

So this was it.

He tried to scratch the back of his neck, focusing on his fingers. Just one arm would be fine. Really! This sucked!

His skin felt like ants were crawling across it, up and down his body and he desperately wanted to swat at his arms and legs. He was sure he felt a shift in his right arm, and felt elated as he tried to move again. His arms strained until it was burning, until he felt that his flesh was tearing right off of his bones, but he had felt worse during his training. A searing heat burned at his veins and his muscles pulled taut. He felt strange that there was no sweat on his brow and huffed his awe and suddenly, he fell forward, a thunder crack resounding through his body and jumping across the caldera in an echo. The stone fell from his skin in pieces, stubbornly sticking to his hair. He ran a hand through it and screeched.

A good fistful of stone-made hair came off in his hands. He tried to put it back, but it crumbled away beneath his clumsy fingers and he pulled off his gloves horrified.

With a trembling, bare hand he touched his fingers to his head. He was unwilling to believe it even though the wind caressed his scalp undeterred.

Smooth.

He was hairless!

He stalked towards the monster and she recoiled, drawing back up on her tail to rise taller than him,” Stay back mortal! You will not survive this a second time!”

She threw out her hands and the wind slashed his clothes, bit drew on his skin with dulled, icy fingers. Saitama uncovered his face with a triumphant grin and met her terror stricken face. She was frightened of him. Her tail flicked nervously, but she continued to swing gusts of wind at him. They tore at his cape, cut through the thick fabric of his leathers, but he still advanced on her. He threw a punch, in his anger forgetting his knife,” This is for my hair!”

He his hand barely missed because of an updraft but he hit a boulder behind her and it exploded into rubble, clattering at his feet. He stared at his fist in awe and laughed. She scrabbled away, pulling herself across rocks, but Saitama stomped through them, smashed through them and didn't even feel it. He didn't even feel cold anymore, even though his clothes were in tatters. 

She attempted to scrabble up a particularly large rock, but slid down, her long claws not catching on the smooth surface. She cowered at the foot of it and held her hands out,” What _are_ you?! Wait, wait! Stop! I can-to save my life I'll- Anything! I'll give you anything! Spare my life hero! I just wanted to live in _peace_!”

Saitama paused, fist still raised. He had just wanted to live in peace too. He had just wanted to have fun again. Hunting didn't pose a challenge anymore, so he had figured that hunting monsters would fill the void. He wanted the thrill of the hunt. The success of the prey falling to your arrow. He hadn't found satisfaction in it anymore. Then, the villagers had begun to bother him, blaming his antisocial ways for their misfortune. They thought he was a warlock. He had wanted to bring them the head of the monster to prove his innocence. He didn't want to be feared. He wanted to be a hero.

Noting his hesitation, the monster brought her tail up under herself and recurled her hair in agitation,” So...so long as those human stop interfering in my magic...if they stop trying to climb this mountain I'll...I'll hunt elsewhere got it?!”

“Okay.” Saitama agreed,” And me?”

She gawked at him, then hissed,” Isn't that enough?!”

Saitama raised her fist and she covered her head,” Alright, alright alright! What do you _want_?!”

Saitama thought about it.

“I want to be a hero.”

The monster raised a scaled brow,” Uh? Aren't you already-Okay? Um...Ah!”

She snapped her fingers and made a 'wait here' gesture so Saitama crossed his arms and waited. She moved a boulder aside, revealing the entrance to a tunnel Saitama supposed was her lair. It was a long while until she returned, so he had sat down and was nodding off before she shrieked,” I got it!”

He startled, standing again and she shoved a map into his hands,” My sister is a mapmaker. She's the harpy gorgon so don't touch her! She's a good kid okay?”

She leveled him with a stare and he nodded. Obviously relieved, she waved for him to open the map and he did, over a relatively flat rock. She drew her finger over the map,” So there is a fearsome creature terrorizing the Western Wood. It's called the Gilded Beast. It has made its lair in Gildreth, the golden kingdom in the heart of the Hellfire Thicket. To get there, you must-”

He made his way down the mountain on a strong draft of gorgon magic. It was much faster than climbing and he was able to sleep. He returned to village and after convincing them he wasn't a ghost come to exact revenge, told them the gorgon was dead but had laid a curse upon the mountain. If anyone breached the sanctum of the mountain, a thousand years of death would crush them under the mountain's weight. He produced a scale just as the gorgon said to and suddenly they were less skeptical. Even so, they told him that he was a curse himself and that his presence would not be tolerated.

With a heavy heart, Saitama left his home. He stopped by his small cottage to change into his solstice leathers. They were more sturdy, being worn less than his other pair, but they were brightly painted for the holiday. A golden yellow and dyed red leather boots and gloves. He was always the one to build the bonfire during the festival, but now, he was cast out.

He drew his white cape over his shoulders, securing the hood over his now bald head and made his way west at first light. No one bade him farewell.

It was a long journey that took half a year. He passed through large towns whose buildings were all towers and spires. He passed through towns who's people carved their homes out of the bones of giants. There were people who lived in great sequoia trees that stretched so impossibly high that they seemed to touch the sky. Saitama was accosted by thieves and monsters alike, but always came out the victor with only a single blow. It got less and less invigorating and more and more of a chore. He found himself resolving things more peacefully, using his strength to subdue rather than obliterate. He crossed rivers and lakes, circumvented canyons and mountains. His legs took him across the misty moors of Lantrang where the people coexisted with wild horses and painted their bodies with paint made from the pollen of flowers. He roved through the Halls of Fang where he was greeted merrily with wine, food and song. It was a small band of warriors who had based their fighting movements on the fluidity of water and the immovability of stone. He had been tempted to join, but his heart wasn't in it so he wandered again saying a farewell to the wily, old leader. He trudged through the plains of Risset and danced with their nomads around campfires until they had to part where the Western Wood's shadow fell.

He didn't rest, seeing the lights of a town in the distance at the forest's edge. After two days of travel he arrived at dusk and almost dropped his pack when he saw what the buildings were. In varying shades of blue and fading to brown, the homes were carved out of mushrooms! Saitama picked up his pace excitedly, feeling an almost childlike wonder at the ingenuity of it! Mushrooms!

His stomach growled and he was reminded of his slim rations. Seeing a forest, he hadn't portioned them at all, hoping he could hunt some sort of game. This was obviously a mistake. By the time his feet hit the path, he was almost running to the nearest mushroom house and nearly knocked until he heard the warble of a bard and the clapping, roaring laughter that was the telltale sign of an inn. Saitama didn't think that people headed this way often enough to warrant an inn, but he wasn't about to complain.

He pushed open the swiveled door and was met with silence. The bard, a young, pale girl petered off into a soft humming and blew at her flute softly. It was made of gold. Saitama was completely puzzled by this open display of wealth from a job that paid coppers before he sensed someone approaching him,” Hello traveler! Welcome to my bar! I have items for sale if you are just passing through and wish to resupply, though I wouldn't advise heading out so late.”

He was a frail old man, his spine stooped, but even so he stood a head taller than Saitama even if it was only by his ridiculous haircut. He resembled the mushroom he lived in, his hair ballooning out over kind, twinkling eyes and an even bigger nose that somehow managed to jut out beyond the wide brim of his hair. The fabric of his robe was white, spotless and seemed to produce its own light. Saitama didn't know the material, but he wasn't stupid enough to mistake it for anything but what it was:

Magic.

Saitama rolled his shoulder,” That sounds alright, but I was hoping for a bed and maybe some information. I have traveled a long way.”

A people muttered and shuffled quietly and Saitama ignored them. The old man raised a brow,” Information? A bed is an easier feat seeing as not much happens in these parts. What pray tell, can this old man do for you?”

“I'm hunting a beast. He's called the-” Saitama falters on the name, and finds himself scrunching up his face in concentration, but the syllables slip his mind and rearrange themselves like a kaleidoscope,” Gorgon Least? No, no the Gold-something?”

“Fool,” the old man whispers,” You look for... the Gilded Beast.”

There is a clamor and the barmaid shutters the windows, closing them tight and the small bard's instrument splutters. The chatter stops and several pairs of eyes settle on Saitama. A tall, broad man in an expensive, sleeveless brocade approaches the old man conspiratorially,” Mister Kuseno, allow me to speak. We Tank Tops know the most about this.”

Kuseno chuckles,” Stay a while and listen.”

Saitama nods and the barmaid takes his arm and leads him to the fireplace where there are several men in similar sleeveless brocades. Saitama notes the quality of the dress that the barmaid is wearing. It's one of those dresses upper class women wear. The kind that make you regret tumbling in the hay with them because there are so many skirts and strings and underthings that clasp and twine and tie together.

As if women weren't puzzling enough creatures.

Saitama scans the men and see that they're a little worse for wear. They sag with fatigue, nursing mugs of mead, and stare challengingly as Saitama enters their midst. He pulls his hood down and then the barmaid is bringing over a stool and a mug. He makes to pull his purse from his breeches, but she waves him off and Kuseno chuckles good-naturedly,” You can pay for it by listening. Sit by the fire and let us tell you. Let us tell you about the beast. Tank Top Master, why don't you tell...”

“Saitama.”

“Just Saitama?”

“Saitama nods and the old man shrugs,” Tell him.”

Tank Top Master is a massive man, easily broad as two of Saitama and standing two heads taller. Saitama jokingly wonders if he's half-giant before the man is speaking. His eyes stare into the fire and he has his hands clasped tightly between his knees. The other men of his band have gone silent, all of their eyes on their leader.

“We used to live there. Four years ago we lost our home to the Beast. We were knights there in Gildreth. A terrible curse has fallen over our kingdom, stranger. The woods have grown dark, and are left forever in an eternal state of gloom by an evil magic. We lost the royal family first to the creature and then it took over the castle! Turning people into twisted metal- _things_! Abominations made of cogs and gold and-”

He fixes Saitama with a stare and Saitama remembers that he's supposed to be paying attention. He was idly tracing the rim of his mug and takes a sip. Nope. He still doesn't like mead.

Ah, he's waiting for a response. Saitama doesn't know when he stopped paying attention and how long the other man was talking. He taps his foot, shifts a bit and shrugs,” That doesn't change anything.”

One of the men stands, his mug clattering to the floor and Saitama sees that rather than pewter, it's polished steel and gilded with vines. What a waste of money, he thinks.

“Huuuh!? Are you making fun of us? We're serious! Give up the tough guy act! We both know you ain't got the stones to do half of what we do! It's just enough to keep those monsters in the woods! Give up if you know what's good for-”

“This isn't how we act. Be worthy of the Tank Top, Black Hole,” the leader says quietly and immediately the tall dark haired man sits, hands clasped in his lap. Tank Top Master goes on,” What makes you think you can prevail where we haven't stranger?”

Saitama picks at his ear,” I...am pretty strong, I guess. Yeah.”

The Tank Top gang starts their dissent in loud, roaring disbelief, but Tank Top Master stomps his foot and they are all silent. “You are either strong as you claim, or as foolish as you seem. Time will tell. Let us retire.”

The Tank Tops stand as one and nod respectfully to Kuseno as they pass him on their way up the stairs. Saitama is trying not to laugh at the absurdity of multiple floors in a massive mushroom house, but stills when Kuseno sits in the large easy chair. The wooden legs are intricately carved to resemble dragon legs despite its plain, gray upholstery and Saitama wonders why the place is so lavishly decorated despite being in the middle of nowhere.

Kuseno produces a long pipe and then seems to remember Saitama as he packs tobacco into it,” Do you mind if I smoke?”

Saitama shakes his head. Maybe if he listens hard long enough, it will equal the cost of a room. Hopefully. He doesn't fancy the idea of roughing it so close to a town in foreign woods.

Kuseno lights the tobacco and takes a long pull. Blue smoke curls from his big nose and looks like a mustache for a moment before it dissipates and Saitama has to bite back his laughter.

“The beast is not what he seems young Saitama. Remember this when you go into the wood will you? Violence begets violence and I think that poor boy...” Kuseno sighs, blue smoke billowing out,” What brings you here young traveler? From where do you hail?”

Saitama thinks on it.

There is no real place he has called home. Even his home at the foot of Tornado Peak was temporary. Before that, he had lived-

“Zedread?”

“You don't sound so sure.”

Saitama smiles,” It was long ago.”

“For everything people can't remember, the stone tells. The wind calls. The water carries it. Time sings the song of it all and sets these things permanently in the stars... Ah, excuse an old man's ramblings.”

Saitama stares, mouth agape,” You...Were you there? When the city fell?”

“Forgive me, I did not mean to bring up bad memories. Some things are better left unremembered.”

Something spoiled in Saitama's gut. He was a coward. A weakling, unable to save a single thing. Kuseno's words were the ones carved into the city gate. Even now, Saitama still bore the crest on his hand and set his directions to constellations. He was undeserving of it all and now here he was, alive and still as aimless as before. What had he really accomplished?

No one talked about the kingdom that disappeared and Saitama was unsure why he had brought it up to begin with. He should have said Tornado Peak regardless of the truth. Blue smoke billowed out from Kuseno's mouth and Saitama realized belatedly that it didn't have a scent.

“Why are you here?”

“I...I just...”

Saitama woke up to an unfamiliar red canopy overhead. He sat up quickly, not even drowsy. He was in his undershirt and breeches thankfully, but found his cuirass and greaves on a chair nearby with his boots resting underneath. This was by far the most lavish room Saitama had been in in years and the sheer gaudy extravagance of it was an affront to his frugality. Just these sheets alone could feed an entire village and he had half a mind to take them. Though...it would be a shame that no one else would get to enjoy them.

He hopped out of the bed, and ventured into the adjacent room. This too was lavishly decorated. A delicate looking porcelain basin he could bathe in that seemed to be attached to metal tubes and knobs. Curiously, he turned one and a spout sprayed his hand with cold water. Spluttering he wrenched it closed and it snapped off into his hand. Panic mounting, he tried in vain to slap it back on, but turned when he heard a knock at the door.

“Lord Saitama?”

The knob clattered to the ground,” It's just Saitama.”

The door opened and Saitama chucked the knob into the basin with a clatter. Kuseno appeared in a dark gray robe, eyeing him suspiciously before peeking into the bath. Saitama stumbled over his words as sweat gathered in his palms,” I found it like that!”

Kuseno picked up the knob and set it back on, twisting it this way and that. Saitama huffed,” I already tried that old man! Wait! You-you knocked me out and-”

“And what my Lord?”

“Call me 'My Lord' one more time old man. This is creepy!”

Kuseno pulls away his hand and the knob is reattached. Saitama inspects it closely from all angles, turning it this way and that,” Uh...wow you really...that's really on there.”

“Yes. I've gotten supplies together for you at your request and will ready your armor if only you were willing to part with it.”

“I won't!”

“At least let us wash your undergarments. It will take but a moment.”

“That's just sick.” Saitama says and Kuseno sighs.

“You're a stubborn one. That's probably a good thing. I'll be downstairs. Kaya and I will see you off.”

Saitama just nods, not wanting to ask who the hell Kaya is. He turns on the faucet, both shocked and delighted that these pipes can pull hot water as well as cold. He spends a long time soaking, wondering on the journey ahead of him. He lathers himself in every soap and oil available because he can and is toweling off smelling like a mix of spices, herbs and roses. He hasn't had the luxury so he supposes he should take advantage.

He towels off, reveling too long in the softness of the fabric and has to marvel at the strangeness that magic brings about.

He goes into the bedchamber only to scowl at the way his clothes are laid out. He sniffs at them and notes that they're clean and his leather armor looks brand new and is waxed and oiled to perfection. He takes it in hand and notes that the dents and cracks are gone. The spongy parts are supple and firmer again and he's awed at the wonders of magic. Then, his gut alarms him that something is different. Saitama was never gifted in magics of any kind, but his lineage has allowed him the “sense”, though sometimes he can mistake it for hunger or indigestion.

He shrugs and dons his underclothes, laces his breeches and then pulls on his armor, strapping it together in practiced motions. Once every buckle is buckled and all the chords are...chorded, he shakes out his cape and notes that it seems to be radiating and reflecting light somehow. It's also softer, sliding soft as water against his hand. Strange, but not unwanted.

He pulls up his hood and clomps down the stairs. He is met at the foot of the stairs by the barmaid, who bows and hands him his pack,” Here you are good sir. Safe travels Master Saitama.”

Saitama scowls,” What is with you people? Just Saitama.”

He snatches his pack and she remains bowed. He throws the satchel over his shoulder, and then she's handing him his bloated waterskin that he gratefully takes,” Thanks anyway, I guess. Later.”

“Mister Saitama.”

He turns exasperatedly,” What!”

Kuseno grins at him from a table where the Tank Tops are scarfing down food. Saitama's stomach growls at the sight of roast ham, lentils, and boiled eggs. Kuseno gestures him to sit so he does with annoyed vehemence, but manages a ,” Thanks.”

He scarfs down as much as he can and Kuseno is talking,” Be careful young Saitama. The woods have become a strange place. The things within it are cursed, as is everything in that castle.”

Saitama speaks around a mouthful of egg,” Eh? Cash'tle?”

“The castle where the beasts have taken over.”

“Beashts? Thought der wud on'ny one?”

“Everyone that lived there when the palace was cursed was cursed as well. Be wary...Though...Promise me you will come back if nothing can be done for them. Promise this old man you will leave the beasts be if they do you no harm?”

Puzzled, Saitama nods and the old man looks a thousand years older,” What's that all about? What aren't you telling me?”

“I was the court wizard of that place. The young man, the king, my ward...” Kuseno's voice warbles and Saitama panics. He isn't so good with the whole crying thing.

He stands,” Hey dude, just take it easy yeah? I got this.”

Kuseno laughs,” You really are from Zedread...dude.”

Saitama smiles,” That's more like it. See ya tomorrow.”

Kuseno stands, shocked,” You really think it will only take a day?!”

Saitama shrugs,” Like I said, I'm pretty strong.”

“What if strength can't help you?”

Saitama stares blankly. He hadn't considered that,” I am not a smart man, wiz'.”

Kuseno laughs,” Well good luck anyway my boy.”

He waves and then he's off. He knows the castle is in the heart of the woods. He has to only head toward the “sense of dread” or whatever that Master Top Hat talked about and he'll be fine. Probably.

He heads down the path, seeing people openly staring at him as he passes their houses. The path of the village ends in an intricately carved wooden bridge that's painted in bright colors. It bridges a trench that separates the town from the wild, dark, twisting plants of the western wood. As he nears the edge of the bridge, he runs a finger along the railing to be sure. The side of the bridge closest to the woods is blackened with soot.

Dark, evil magic huh.

Saitama is about to step forward, but he feels it. There are eyes on him. He snaps up his head and he sees a dark shape dart back into the depths of the woods and he's running. He bounds and leaps through brambles and thickets. He bashes through bushes and circumvents trees when he can help it. This creature is fast, and is familiar with its territory, giving it a home advantage against Saitama, but he crashes through trees when he loses ground and barely feels it. Saitama finds himself wondering if he could have uprooted a sequoia if he had tried.

The woods become sparse, and blackened and the hunter is nearly blinded when something metal hits him in the eye. He scowls, catching hold of it. He's careful not to crush it and hold it open in his palm.  
Against the red leather of his glove sits a key attached to a thread. He snaps the thread and pocket the key just in case, but then light catches his eye and he sees another key. He takes that too, and realizes too late that he has lost track of the creature. Cursing he rubs at his eye and continues to follow it's small, clawed prints in the softer part of the earth. He notes that it has a light step and a wide stride.

Suddenly, he jerks upright in shock. Lying on the root of a large, blackened tree is a metal hand. Saitama has never seen a prosthesis so intricate. And he almost pockets it before he glances up and sees the rest of the body not too far off. He runs to her,” Are you alright-”

He cuts off a startled yell. It's a woman made of twisting, intricately bolted and welded pieces of metal. Her gold eyes stare at the sky and her chest has a key wedged in a port but it obviously doesn't fit. Her remaining hand is full of keys. Saitama takes a deep breath, then crouches next to her and follows her gaze.

The trees are littered with keys.

His mouth drops open, and he stands. He looks at the keyhole at her collarbone and notes the glass window that reveals many interlocked cogs.

It looks like a wind up doll, though the fact that she is as big as a life sized woman with eyelids, and movable face pieces that if he's right should imitate human expression...

He backs away, feeling a sense of dread. Magic is a terrible thing.

He takes any keys that are low enough to reach, both wanting to keep busy and because he thinks his gut is clenching in a familiar way that says it's imperative he do so.

The forest as he heads deeper in is recovering from what appears to be a huge forest fire. He supposes that these things happen in summer. The trees here are black and dead. The forest has already started to recover and Saitama makes a rough estimate judging by the plants growing back the fire happened a month ago at the most. Keys litter the ground and he picks up the ones that catch his eyes and shoves them into the side pocket of his pack. Then, he sees it.

Amongst the ash, and the gray backdrop of the overcast sky, is a castle that looks like it was carved out of a piece of the sun. It gleams like a dream and Saitama squints, unsure if he can trust his eyes. He edges toward the castle, but sees the door open and shut and immediately he's running again. He's sure it's the beast!

Again, he's excited for the fight, the rush of adrenaline. Maybe this time, someone will thank him! Maybe they'll-

The doors are gold. The whole castle is gilded and up close, Saitama is awestruck at the disgusting demonstration of wealth. This kingdom is lucky no one stripped it. He tugs on the door, but it wont give even an inch. “Oi! Let me in!”

The hunter steadily applies pressure until he wrenches it open, hearing whatever held it close snap.

“Oops.”

The door swings open, off its hinge and Saitama hurriedly holds it against the frame as he swings it open and then carefully swings it back. When he lets go, the door knocks and leans against its twin brokenly and Saitama is already calculating how much a gold plated door hinge will cost when a voice booms through the foyer,” IT MATTERS NO WHO YOU ARE. YOU ARE UNWELCOME HERE. LEAVE NOW OR PAY POUND FOR POUND YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS IN FLESH.”

“Huh? Of course I'm unwelcome here. I'm here to defeat the Trilby Beast.”

There is no answer and Saitama looks around. The whole foyer is done up in white marble and gold. The obsidian floor is polished to a mirror and Saitama kneels, picking out snot that he hadn't noticed before springing up the stairs. The whole place is steadily ticking at varied intervals all at once and it sounds like he is inside the inner workings of some clocktower.

Then, he sees it. Set high in the air, made of glass so you can see the painted dome beyond it, is a gigantic clock. It's nearly noon.

Huh. The trek through the woods took longer than he thought it would.

“Last call! Everyone is inside?! Roooooll call! Anybody?”

The thing freezes when it sees Saitama and Saitama's jaw drops.

It's one of those clockwork dolls, except this one is a man. He's dressed smartly in pressed trousers, a collared shirt and a waistcoat typical of his occupation. His face is lined to allow his face movement, but its inorganic. Saitama almost marvels at the skillful sculpt of messy copper hair on its head.

“OI! Butler guy!”

The butler readies himself in a low stance,” I'll show you right to the door home invader! You were most certainly _not_ invited!”

“Give it a rest Mumen,” comes a low snicker and Saitama looks up to see a dark, catlike clockwork man-thing perched on the banister of the stairs at a higher level. It's smile is wide, splitting its face into two and its eyes are like mirrors. Saitama hates it.

“Stay out of this thief!” snaps the butler and he turns back to Saitama,” You really don't belong here. I'd hate to have to-”

“LEAVE NOW.” the voice booms through the foyer and the butler thing flinches.

“My liege has not invited you here.”

“Well can I be here if he meets with me and decides to invite me after all?”

The cat thing snickers again and the butler's eye twitches,” No.”

“Aw c'mon, just-” Saitama darts past the butler and the thing attempts to tackle him, but he's already halfway up the stairs toward where he thinks the voice came from.

He's going from extravagant room to room before he's lost,” Hey dismembered voice guy?! I'M LOST!”

The voice comes quieter, like a whisper at his ear,”You wish to leave?”

Saitama rubs at his ear, his hair raised on his arms and back of his neck. That voice was different that time. It was a low timbre that settled low in his gut. This was why he didn't like magic.

“Yes?”

“I'll lead you out then. Go out the door on your right hand side, then proceed down the hall way, take the door at the end, go to the left branch then...”

Saitama listened carefully and asked the voice to repeat the directions once more.

“ Gotcha! So I'll just go the opposite and find you!” He laughed gleefully, running the directions backward.

“Wait! You liar! Take a left! LEFT!”

He bolted at his top speed, the expensive carpets bunching under his feet and chandeliers swaying at his passing. It was on his third turn that he saw it. A cloaked figure jolted and turned tail to run.

“Gotcha!” He easily outstripped the creature as it descended the foyer staircase and Saitama realized too late that the creature had beat him at his own game. They were at the front door.

“You found me. Now leave.” The cloaked figure crossed his arms smugly, and Saitama seethed.

“Where's your master!”

The thing cocked his head and Saitama went on,” I know he's hiding in here somewhere! Tell me or else I'll knock the cloak off of you!”

I'd like to see you try imbeci-”

Saitama snatched the cloak from him and the thing crumpled, hiding its face.

The cloak dropped from his hand.

It was beautiful. Spiked, golden hair twisted out of its head like horns and its spine protruded from its back. Large wings were tightly wound about its body where it crouched and Saitama noted that unlike the other clockwork automatons, this one was more finely made. Its joints from what he saw were seamlessly plated over one another to imitate the muscles of the human body. This creature was a mix of brushed black metal and shining gold. Clawed hands curled over its face and it snarled,” You've had your fun now-!”

A hollowed tone resounded through the castle, shaking the ground.

“No.” The creature whispered and suddenly, he was trying to push Saitama to the door,” Leave or else you'll be trapped here like the rest of us!”

“Huh?”

“Are you some kind of idiot!? You must go! NOW.”

“I can't! I haven't found the Grilled Beast yet!”

“You found me, okay?” The creature rounded on him and Saitama was stunned,” Please. For your own safety, you must go!”

The creature's eyes were honeyed-gold set in onyx stone. They were like gems, but the thing's face was all sharp angles. Saitama could not decide whether it looked more like a dragon, or a demon with the way black horns spiraled out from its forehead and twisted back along its skull to curl up to the sky. It's fangs jutted up and down out of its wide mouth, black, sharp and sinister. Its body was lean, the legs inverted and the jagged metal wings clasped tight to its body, the thumbs hooked tight over its throat like a cape. It swept Saitama up in it's tail, throwing him onto its back and skittered across the obsidian floor like a lizard toward the door.

Saitama held on,” _You're_ the beast?!”

The beast almost made it, but the door started glowing at the last boom of the clock over head and the door began to glow. The broken door righted itself and Saitama saw cogs and gears interlock and weave together.

“No!” The creature howled and clawed at the seams of the door fruitlessly.

“Incinerate!” It maw split wide, revealing rows of black teeth, before his mouth and the seams of his body began to glow and a jet of white-hot fire licked across its surface.

It had no effect and suddenly the creature was throwing itself against the door, screaming and Saitama couldn't stand it. It sounded too... _human_.

“Hey! Cut that out!”

The creature didn't even look at him, screaming and scraping its clawed hands against the door, somehow marvelous in its anger.

It was like his first time seeing a dragon and that somehow gave him courage as to what to do next.

He seized the thing's horns and tossed the creature aside,” Knock it off!”

The creature gaped at him, then drew its wings around its humanoid form,” You have no idea what you've done.”

Before Saitama could answer, the thing scaled a nearby pillar and skittered out of sight to the second floor. Saitama heard the sound of metal on marble and turned to see the cat-person stalking toward him, its sliver coin eyes spinning wildly. The wide, grinning mouth didn't move when it spoke in a cool, arrogant voice,” Looks like the majesty gave up on you.”

He deflates when he sees that Saitama won't respond,” Hey! I'm talking to you!”

“Are you? Your mouth doesn't move...”

The black cat-thing snickers and puts a hand to its face. Saitama can't decide from this close if the creature's prongs atop its head are more like cat ears or horns. Suddenly, the cogs at its jaw spin and its face separates from its head and Saitama yells in surprise.

The metal man snickers. His face is made from plates of what looks to be porcelain and white-gold. His coin-like eyes are narrow and glittering with mirth. Black hair falls about his shoulders and Saitama is suddenly aware of how androgynous the automaton is. The humanoid thing has the child bearing hips of a farm wife, but the lean muscles and veined, muscular arms of a man. It's whole body is a brushed black metal inlaid with silver joints and seams. Its movements are unnatural in their speed, but graceful nonetheless. This thing radiates confidence and it shows in his wide stance and even wider grin. This grin is more natural that the false face, but just as sinister.

He twists the face this way and that,” It's a mask.”

“Okay.”

“Don't you have any questions? Or are you just stupid?”

“Sonic! Be polite to our guests!” The butler clangs over, adjusting its strange, spectacle-like lenses on its round face,” Looks like you'll be with us from now on, so I apologize for my earlier behavior! I am Mumen Riderson. This is Speed of Sound Sonic. And you are...?”

“Saitama.”

“No title?”

“Just Saitama.”

“So be it sera.”

Saitama scrunches up his nose. This is a custom that he doesn't know enough about to protest. He does know one thing,” A Rider huh? I have met with your cousins and kin in Kamen-Ra. You lot are rather numerous eh?”

The butler just smiles and suddenly, Saitama understands and he takes a step back in shock,” You...You're a-”

They're not monsters, demons or automatons. They aren't things.

They're _people_.

The men share a puzzled look, and the dark-haired man shrugs.

Saitama goes towards the door and attempts to pry it open, but it holds fast and he's so surprised that he ends up tumbling backwards and getting tangled in his cape,” What the...”

“You can't leave. It's midday.”

Saitama pulls his cape down from over his head,” So?!”

The grinning man steps forward with a cackle,” You'll be stuck here until the clock strikes again and you'll be just. Like. Us.”

Fear closes on Saitama's heart for a mere second before he laughs. He's been frozen into stone. He's been bathed in the flames of a greater dragon and has broken the teeth of a lesser dragon just by being bitten. He has been thrown by a giant and been dropped from the clouds by winged beasts onto jagged rocks. He has had all manner of magics thrown at him. This will be no different.

“He's gone mad.” the butler says and Saitama waves him off.

He grabs the door again and pulls. He sinks his fingers in between cogs and yanks on them until he grows bored of it. The butler and dark figure watch him from the bottom step of the stairs. The dark one jeers at him, while the butler offers advice and encouragement.

Saitama is sweating and realizes that he might have to go all out. He digs his feet into the ground, his feet cracking depressions into the floor and the butler admonishes him,” Don't destroy the foyer!”

“Wreck it to pieces! Yaha!”

There's the tell tale groan of metal and the door buckles beneath his hands and he wrenches it loose,” I am not going to stay here one more minute!”

He slams the door down into the foyer floor, cracking the obsidian surface like a huge web. The other men's mouths are agape.

“Impossible...” Riderson says.

“Impossible.”

They all turn to see the golden beast at the top of the stairs. Saitama waves at him and makes his way forward out the hole where the door was,” This was fun! Hey Beastman! I broke your door!”

Saitama drops it, grinning,” Boy, was that a _jamb_! Ha! Get it? Doors! I mean, I almost came _unhinged_! Ha, get it because-oh you guys are awful. See ya!”

“Wait! I am Genos, King of the fallen Gildreth and Son of Thedros and Mira Descendants of the Gilded! Tell me your name and station sir!”

“Ha? Saitama. I'm a volunteer monster-hunter for fun.”

“Take me on as your disciple!”

“O-kay?” Seeing the wide grin on the beast made him realize his mistake,” WAIT. No! I'm not taking on any disciples!”

“I will be your best yet Master Saitama!”

“No, no! Sorry! Can't! I gotta get the hell out of here!” Saitama steps out into the waiting day and the clockwork man is at the doorway,” Wait! Come back! Please! Teach me to be as strong as you are! I must avenge my family! Master, don't leave me! I cannot follow!”

Saitama brings up his hood, hunches his shoulders and stalks off. He hears the cry of “Lord Genos, don't!” and he turns.

The creature is halfway out the doorway, eyes wide and he is frozen like a statue. The sun is directly overhead, hitting the golden creature and glaring off of his gold skin. Saitama has to bring up his hand and squint his eyes because the visage is so dazzling. Twin black streaks stream down its angular face and Saitama realizes that he's crying. Both the butler and dark figure yank him back into the confines of the castle and Genos is animated once more. He paces wildly at the threshold, shouting at Saitama while the butler frets nearby,” I'll give you anything you could possibly want! Land! A title! If its riches you seek, I have them!”

“Those are _mine_!” the dark figure shrieks and is hushed by Mumen.

“Knighthood! Priesthood! You can be Castle Mage! Anything! Anything! You would be saving my life! Please! Master!”

Saitama pauses. The man sounds young now in his fervor. His voice is desperate, pleading and Saitama wonders if he really can help him. Maybe it's some trick to turn him into one of them?

Even so, what if he really could save this man?

Saitama turns back the way he came, trudging up the stairs and crossing his arms,” Okay spill it. Who are you and what do you think I could do to save you?”

“You wish to know about me?”

Saitama really tries hard to listen:

“Four years ago I was a normal human being until I was about fourteen. I lived a peaceful and relatively happy life together with my family in this small, prosperous kingdom. We have become known as the city of riches but this is a mistake made by outsiders. Every citizen is cared for and so we have no need for material riches because all of our needs like food and shelter are met by our united labor front in which day by day, groups will take turns taking care of the crops and tending to the animals. That was until one day a crazy clockwork sorcerer attacked our kingdom. I suppose a spell or spirit cleanse went haywire and he became possessed or mad. He destroyed everything. The schools, the parks, our crops, killed our animals...he even took the lives of my family, Miraculously, I survived. I was just a weak, fourteen year old boy, barricaded in the ruins of my castle with few other citizens. We were starved nearly to death, waiting for the terror to pass. We were at the last of our strength and our rations were long gone before the High Wizard Kuseno happened by. He was a Magic User for justice on a journey to stop the violence committed by the Mad Sorcerer who had attacked my town. I asked Kuseno to teach me greater magic and so I was reborn a sorcerer for justice, protector of my kingdom. I promised High Wizard Kuseno that someday I would destroy the Mad Sorcerer and put an end to his atrocities. Two years passed. I was sixteen and roaming from town to town before I picked up on the trail of the sorcerer. Finally! I had defeated countless monsters and evil organizations. Because I had found no sign I had spent my days in irritation and impatience. How long had I been chasing phantoms of that Mad Sorcerer! I followed the magic trail to my home town and found my cities ravaged! The citizens were once again holed up in the castle, but this time I was ready for whatever machinations the Sorcerer had in store for me! I went into the castle and suddenly, I felt my body begin to warp and change. My citizens were clockwork and so was to be my fate! The change took the course of three days and I sent message to Kuseno with magic. He cast a spell to save the lives of me and my people, but at what cost?  
My enemy escaped me, and Kuseno could only extend the deadline of the curse! So we have sat for three years knowing that soon we shall all perish if we-”

“ENOUGH!”

The clockwork beast stared wide-eyed at him and Saitama felt a vein pulse on his forehead,”Shorten it! Twenty words! Go!”

The angular face bunched up in concentration and after a minute, the Gilded Beast spoke sullenly,” In one year everyone will die. I do not know the parameters of the curse and must 'strengthen the heart'.”

Exactly twenty. Saitama was impressed,”Okay. Why will you die?”

“The curse requires that we wind ourselves like clocks, but the problem is that the tumblers are meant to break off one for each of my birthdays. Forgive my word count.”

Saitama nods,” Just keep it short okay? Why is this a problem?”

“When all the tumblers of our systems break, we will not be able to move at all.”

Saitama thinks,” What was that when you were frozen at the door? A barrier or...” he tries to remember magic terms.

“When it is midday, the doors shut. If we are outside, we are frozen and cannot move. The doors reopen at midnight, but if we aren't back by the time they shut again, you are frozen forever. If you don't have a key and miss winding time at midnight, you are frozen forever. We don't know if those people are dead.”

“Will I turn into a clockwork thing too?”

“Not if you leave within three days.”

“Ah.”

Saitama knows shit about magic. The most he can do is look at something and say,” Yup. Magic.” or “Nope. Not magic.” He begins to sweat. He has to at least try.

“Okay.”

“OKAY?! Master!”

“Don't call me master.”

“Teacher, in order to show proper respect I must-”

“Stop! Stop okay, whatever!”

They hear a groan of metal, and suddenly, the door breaks free from where it was wedged into the ground and slides toward the doorway.

“Quickly master!” Genos gestures him inside, but Saitama hesitates.

The door slams into place, knocking Genos out of the way and suddenly the man is snarling,” You are just like the rest of them! Useless!”

The door fixes itself and it goes silent.

Saitama shrugs and heads into the woods, hiking up his pack onto his shoulder. He can always go back tomorrow.

He has a long day ahead of him.


	2. Cursed

Despite having a full waterskin, Saitama searched nearby for a source of water. To support a kingdom full of people, there had to be a well or a stream nearby. He combed the surrounding land and realized that the melted lumps of tarnished metal around the charred remains of the houses and structures of Gildreth were probably once metal plating. He shook his head.

Rich people.

Apparently, the remaining denizens weren't too hopeful that they would regain their humanity, seeing as they hadn't bothered to rebuild. There was nothing worth salvaging in the remains. Someone else had the same idea. He kicked through the ashes of the town, his cape somehow remaining an untarnished white. He glanced back toward the castle and wondered how they had managed to ward off the interest of greater dragons.

He looks up at the scuffling of a creature and his jaw drops even as he drops to a low crouch on instinct.

He has never seen the likes of such a creature. He edges closer, not believing his eyes. Its small, a thinly furred hide with long, sloping legs. It scents the air with a long tongue that flicks out of a narrow mouth. There is a crown of ivory horns atop its head and Saitama is already wondering what kind of price its hide will fetch and how it tastes. Even if he can outrun even the swiftest creature, old habits die hard and he creeps closer. Its eyes are small, but at the front of its head. Somehow, this thing is a predator of some sort and he can't quite picture it. The thing has small feet, made to move swiftly. It doesn't look strong with its thin frame and intrigued, he closes in on it.

It's then that a strong wind blows to the east and the thing scents him. It turns abruptly, its jaws splitting like the petals of a very deadly flower. Startled, he freezes and the thing bounds toward him. Saitama ducks its bite at the last minute and turns, hearing something sizzle. Whatever is dripping from the thing's maw is acidic. He curses his luck even as he punches it. He feels bones of its neck dully snap and he crouches down to try and saw the ivory horns from its head.

He won't chance eating it because of its acidic nature, but he has to wonder if this is due to the curse. The animal is misshapen. He is unsure of its deformity, having not seen an example of its species, but he sees that each of its feet has a different number of toes and the feet themselves are all individual in their deformity. Its hips are skewed at an angle, one if its legs longer than the other. One eye socket is significantly larger.

It dawns on him that none of the animals may be safe to eat and he drops the task of looting the horns and digs into his pack. He had trusted the wizard to supply him and stupidly forgot to actually look.

He had been too excited at the prospect of a proper challenge.

He sees a change of underclothes, the gorgon's map, there are the many keys he took in the side pocket, a second water skin. His tarp, his hatchet, rope, his compass, dried fish, jerky, of course his bedroll that was strapped to it and...

“Rocks? No...”

He took one out, noting its spherical shape. There were several of the white balls at the bottom of his pack. He noted its feather light weight, its porous structure...He carefully licked it, and found that the rock-like texture melted like a wafer. It was a bit plain, but he bit through it and found that it was food.

No sooner had he swallowed two greedy bites, than he felt sated. There was still a third of it left and he tossed it back into the pack. He supposed magic could be useful.

Reinvigorated, he took the creature's horns and hide.

He trudged along the paved road and was pleasantly surprised to find that this city was well mapped out and planned. It was something he had come to appreciate in his travels. It made a lot of things easier. He was surprised that whatever attacked the city had burned every single building. The sheer scope of Gildreth spoke volumes of the Mad sorcerer's power and Saitama wondered if the clockwork beast could really destroy such a person.

He was brought from his thoughts, when he saw a gigantic golden fountain. It was obviously some sort of sorcery, completely clean of the telltale soot that Saitama had come to expect. He stood for a moment, marveling at the artistry of the figure at its center. It was a man and woman with a dragon curled at their feet. The man was in full armor, his sword before him, resting on the tops of his high boots and hand holding a goblet in toast, from which water overflowed. The woman was crouched to his back. Water spilled from her mouth to her outstretched hands to fall on the dragon's head. A deep channel ran down the dragon's spine to spill into the fountain's basin.

If the whole damn thing wasn't magic, he probably would have stripped the gold off of it himself. A series of channels ran out of the fountain like veins, feeding into houses and fields that were no longer occupied and Saitama felt for the first time a bit of sorrow. This town had been prosperous enough to take care of thousands of people and now it lay here, a relic.

He refilled his waterskin, and sat at the rim of the fountain to inspect an inscription:

_Rest warrior, for the Gilded gives the gift of water from the endless wellspring of her generosity. Be as she, and give freely._

So this was the town the Beast came from. This was the town upon which such a grave misfortune had fallen.

He thought upon it some more, even though his thoughts seemed to flit away from him like hummingbird darting from flower to flower. He felt that he was on the right pathway to a great idea or conclusion, but lacked the practice to pull these observations into a coherent thought.

Feeling bothered, he stood and went to the woods, hoping to find some game worth eating. He found himself stalking a long weasel-like creature whose fur was the color of pitch. He was surprised to find that it was some species of lesser dragon, for it breathed fire. He strung up three of them on a rod and hung them high in a tree nearby the castle to make his camp. He spent half an hour trying to remember a common flame spell, but the word eluded him. His gut clenched when he came upon the thought to try it and he was unsure if it was hunger or his magic sense.

“Ah... _igni_.”

He was shocked to see the tinder he touched catch fire. Usually, all he could manage was to feel a bit warmer upon saying the spell, which was rather useful in cold climates. He hummed thoughtfully.

Not only was the surrounding area cursed, but there was a strong amplifying power here. Perhaps that was why this particular place had been targeted. Saitama ate his fill of the lesser dragons and wrapped their bones in the hide of the other creature. Lesser dragon or not, they would fetch a fine price at a jeweler or smithy.

He rolled out his bed roll, then removed his cuirass to settle into sleep.

He woke at dawn, springing from his bedroll to ready his fists. Something watched him. He caught whatever was thrown at him before he saw it.

“Uh? What's this?”

He opened his palm to see a small throwing knife and suddenly he had to drop it to catch something else. In the low light of the breaking dawn he saw it. The dark cat-thing had tried to kill him! He snapped what he realized to be a blade in his hand and tossed it aside,”Get lost you smiley freak!”

The thing-Panic? Panic covered his mouth,” Damn. I don't know how you managed to escape, but this is a problem.”

“What do you want with me?”

Panic slid his broken sword to its sheath and held his hands palms up,” Consider that your first trial hero. I won't allow some nobody to claim what is rightfully mine, after all.”

Saitama felt he had missed the eye of a needle,” Huh?”

Silver eyes flickered at him, even in the low lighting,” It was a test of your capabil-ah what you can do.”

“You saw me tear out that door. That's the gist of it.” Saitama said with a shrug and he suddenly felt as if a shadow passed over him. The smiling man's eyes spun in his face wildly like twin coins.

“Lies and trickery,” the dark thing hissed, then after seeing that Saitama would not answer,”So be it. Soon enough, you will succumb to your fate a failure and at least I will get a good laugh before we all meet the reaper.” Panic laughed mirthlessly and strutted arrogantly back toward the castle.

“Hey! Wait! You tried to _kill_ me!”

Panic was long gone and Saitama shook his head in disbelief. He set about cleaning his campsite. He stamped out the remains of his campfire, packed away his bedroll, then meticulously cleaned his teeth as was his routine. It was when he was rinsing his mouth that he heard the tell-tale heavy tread of someone unaccustomed to walking through the woods.

He was ready long before the other person got near him, but still his head snapped up with a cry of,” Hail Saitama! How do you fare? I see that the beasts have left you well alone. It took me quite some time to find you!”

It was the butler. His clothes looked as if the trees and underbrush had done their best to pluck them into a disheveled mess, but still the clockwork man smiled toothily and adjusted the odd spectacle-like lenses on his face.

“I fare well...uh good sir? Um...”

The butler smiled kindly,” There is no need for formality if you so wish it, sera.”

Saitama sighed in relief,” Thanks man.”

The butler nodded,” Ah, and as to why I bother you, sera! My liege would request an audience with you. He extends a most sincere apology for lack of decorum yesterday, but heroes tend to chance crossing the alps rather than chance the woods these past two years. Not many would brave these cursed lands, much less help the citizens of a long gone kingdom.”

Saitama needs only a brief moment to translate now that he is less groggy,” It's no problem, really. I get that you guys are desperate.”

Mumen's smile falters,” Ah...I wouldn't say that, sera. Shall I send ahead and let my lord know you will come?”

Saitama shook his head and shouldered his pack,” No need. We'll go together. Tell me more about this curse.”

He falls into step besides the clockwork man, and he can't help but notice his tense and jumpy stride,” What do you wish to know?”

Saitama scratches his chin,” Whatever you can tell me, Riderson.”

The other man smiles crookedly,” Well...It started when Lord Genos got word of a similar attack on a city...I cannot recall the name. Anyhow, my lord was away at the time. There were simultaneous fires that engulfed our city in a ring and slowly made their way inward...I...The able-bodied people of the palace doused ourselves in water and jumped through the flames in an attempt to approach and use the Fountain. You might have seen it at the city's center? Yes, so we attempted to breach the fire and found that it did not burn us. When we used the fountain, it became apparent that this was no ordinary fire. It was chaos. It took a lot of convincing, but we walked the people through the fire that had destroyed their homes and made our way to the castle. There was fighting and confusion as we all began to change with the castle clock's chiming. The whole forest caught fire that day and it was then that the keys appeared...Then, they were explained to us by a voice that seemed to come from within our heads...with the voice of our own thoughts but...only some of us heard it and...”

Mumen's hands clutched tightly at the elbows of his dress shirt. He didn't seem to notice the way he was stumbling through the underbrush on unsteady feet, head downcast and sight lost to a memory. Saitama had long ago grabbed hold of his upper arm to hold him steady as they walked, but the clockwork man did not seem to notice or care.

“Hey, you don't have to-”

“So many were lost that day...I found so many keys. We tried so many keys. One after another. So many people were lost to that stillness even as we were forced by magic to stay frozen in place. We were forced to watch as they stilled, and then when we regained motion...they never moved again...I-”

Saitama shook him even harder than he already had and was sickened by the way Mumen rattled about like a doll, visible cogs of his body spinning.

“Enough, Riderson! That's enough!”

Mumen seemed to snap back to himself, away from the terrible clutches of his memory. He fixed his lenses,” Ah, forgive m-me I t-tend to ramble beyond my station, sera. Never mind such dark things for now. We have reached the outer edges of the castle grounds.”

It was true, but while the sight of the castle seemed to bring Mumen to normalcy, Saitama only felt a newfound foreboding. Mumen fixed his clothes, tutting soft apologies for his appearance and hurriedly climbed the steps to hold the door open for Saitama.

“Welcome to Gilded Sanctum, Mister Saitama.”

The castle was just as gaudy as ever, but he noted the clock overhead with more interest. It was nearing seven in the morn. Again, his ears were assaulted with the varied ticking intervals that seemed to come from every direction until his ears adjusted.

“If you would follow me this way, sera.”

Saitama followed the copper man through the large doorway on the right. On the walls were several large paintings of presumably, every ruler of Gildreth. Almost all were golden-haired and honey-eyed men and women. Some were green-eyed. All had a softness in their gaze not often depicted in the paintings of rulers. Kings and Queens were supposed to be strong, not softhearted.

As they neared the end of the hallway, Saitama saw there was room for yet more paintings and- He stepped closer.

Before he could run his hands over the deep gouges that slashed the wall, Mumen cleared his throat,” Over here, sera. Lord Genos shall tell you where to sit when he arrives. Shall I take your bag or cape?”

Saitama shook his head and the butler nodded and closed the doors behind him to leave the hunter to gawk at the dining hall.

It was more of a mess hall. All the tables were grand and ornately carved and painted. There were at least fourteen tables and one at the head, long ways where the others lay in lines. The head table had only one set of chairs to line it, but was like the rest. High windows were swathed in velvet curtains, leaving the room in almost darkness.

Suddenly, the great chandeliers overhead lit themselves, and Saitama was so startled, he almost tripped over himself looking up. He looked around for the magic caster, and saw the Beast himself sitting dead center at the head table before a feast of what appeared to be roast pheasant, boiled quail eggs, toast and greens. Saitama's mouth betrayed him,” Clever trick.”

The Beast just smiled from beneath the hood of his cloak with black, jagged fangs,” Have a seat master. I hope my preparations are to your liking.”

Genos stands and offers him his seat with a clawed, golden hand misshapen in its enchantment. Saitama is rightfully wary. He has never heard of a King offering his seat except to-

He swallows thickly,” Have you ever heard of King Boros?”

The Beast cocks his head,” No, but do tell me as we break fast master.”

Saitama rounds the table, his hands clammy in his gloves,” Never mind it, it's a boring one. Haha...”

The Beast shoves his chair in as he goes to sit, taking him off his feet. Saitama yelps and the King moves to take his seat at Saitama's right,” I am sure you can spare me the boring details and tell it to me briefly. Twenty words...or less as you have taught me, master? I am eager to hear of tales beyond my borders.”

The Beast is much taller than him, even when sitting and Saitama can barely take his fork in hand to eat. He only does so because it would be a great waste to refuse free food.

“Pirate King Boros asked shady people who didn't like him to sit on his chair, then killed them for usurping aha...”

Genos stands abruptly,” How awful! How could a King terrorize his subjects in such a way! That is not justice! It's-”

“Take it easy! It's just a story!”

“I...I understand.” The Beast sits again and as Saitama cuts free a piece of pheasant, he notices the King has no plate.

He stares long and hard at his plate of food, mouth watering at the way the bird must taste. The carving knife went through it like butter. No poison he has come across has managed to kill him, so he soldiers on, humming around a mouthful of succulent bird meat.

He turns and catches the Beast staring at him unabashedly, face unreadable.

“Sumfink on m' face?”

“No master. I am remembering what that must be like. To eat, I mean.”

Saitama swallows the half chewed food, but still feels a lump in his throat as he sets his cutlery down,” Ah, sorry I didn't-”

The Beast stands again, chair scraping the floor,” Do not mind me master! I will leave you to enjoy your meal in peace and we shall talk later then! Farewell!”

“Oi! Wait a-”

Saitama moves to stand, but gets a face full of the Beast's cloak and then opens his eyes to see the king is gone.

“What a strange guy.” Saitama eats alone in the great hall. The only sounds are of his chewing, the gentle scrape of his knife on the plate and the constant ticking of cogs. It is an all around strange affair and Saitama ends up tucking away what he can into his pack. No sooner has he turned back to the table than everything is gone, the wooden table polished to a mirror. The hunter stumbles back from his seat in shock, but quickly regains his footing.

He shoves his chair back in place, then makes his way to the door from whence he came, picking at his teeth with his hunting knife. He throws open the door and almost stabs himself when he sees the Beast right behind it. He impressively manages to turn his squawk into a manly grunt,” H'lo...”

The Beast pulls his hood even further down his face, “I hope the meal was to your satisfaction master. If you are willing I shall show you around the castle. We haven't much time, I'm afraid, unless...you'll be lodging with us this evening.”

Saitama noted the intense stare of the Beast; even if he attempted to cover his face it did not mean much when the lad stood two heads taller than him! Golden eyes bore into him from within the black pits of his sclera and Saitama found himself flushing and ducking his head. He sheathed his weapon, just remembering it and scratched the back of his head,” Sure. Yeah, sounds good, kid.”

“Genos, sir.”

“Sir? Not sera?” Saitama chuckled and Genos frowned.

“My cousin hails from the east. He is a strange sort, but cheerful. They have fourth breakfast from whence he hails and it is a wonder he isn't fat!”

Saitama nearly choked on his spit,”Cousin!?”

“Yes. The Ridersons are related to our line, which is not surprising in the least. They are voyagers by nature, but became nomads in the fifteenth century and are quite widespread. They often must check family trees before marrying so as to avoid inces-sorry master. Where did I lose you?”

“At 'cousin'. He looks like a butler!”

Genos snorts, his laugh coming out as a monstrous, gravelly snarl. It sounds painful by the way his gears whine, but the King seems unaffected by it,” He is modest for a regent. Ah, this is the drawing room.”

Saitama splutters into nigh on hysterics.

There are drawings.

_Everywhere._

He falls to his knees, laughing, hitting the floor as gently as he can manage as laughter shakes out of him and he is wiping tears from his eyes when he notices the Beast's bewildered stare.

Ah, it wasn't a joke; the young King is just ridiculous.

Saitama's mouth won't cooperate, the corners lifting like they're _drawn_ to the ceiling.

He almost has another fit when the King snaps,” _WHAT IS SO FUNNY?!_ ”

Saitama hugs his knees, shaking his head as he muffles another giggle,” A dr-drawing room is for like-it's a room rich people use to greet guests? Like where ya do charades an-and-heheh-you _draw_ literally and-heheh-oh no-hee-”

The Beast draws himself to his full height, the talons on his feet clicking on marble as he folds his arms,” Is that so?”

Smoke billows from the Beast's mouth in a hiss and it smells of brimstone, hellfire, but Saitama can't manage to straighten himself out. He knows this is a grave mistake, insulting a King, but literally drawing within a drawing room is too humorous for him. His knees are weak with the levity of the situation. He chances a glance upward, and the Beast covers his face by adjusting his hood, so the hunter is forced to look around him.

There are several charcoal drawings of cogs, the huge dome clock in the reception hall, several sketches of automaton-people, and keys. Notes accompany every drawing, but then Saitama's eye catches on a black page beneath a drawing of the woods outside. His eyes trace the delicate shading of the leaves and he stands. The branches look like veins the way they're supposed to, and he can practically see the way the sunlight glitters off the leaves like emeralds even if it is in black and white. Saitama is transfixed, tracing the very edge of the paper so as not to smudge the drawing, but then he lifts it and the Beast roars.

He catches a mere glimpse of a man and woman amid a black void for the backdrop before the drawing is snatched and incinerated. He can't help an appalled,” Aw...”

The Beast scatters the ashes as he draws his cloak close,” No one should see them like that-I...I...Let us move on from this room. It is a dreary place, unless you would like to read my notes. I assure you that I paraphrased it as succinctly and as accurately as was possible, Master.”

Saitama shrugs, and the Beast leads him pointing out several bedrooms before they are accosted by a loud clanging. From around the bend of the hallway a gang of short automaton children race and yell until they spot Genos. They stumble over themselves, eyes wide, and shuffle as quickly as they can with a greeting. There are four of them and Saitama sees the way their cogs spin at their elbows and shoulders. Their legs are scraped and abraded, the cogs there squeak and whine. He notices they are missing a few bolts here and there, but from the windows on their chests, the brass made children are as lively as the magic that moves them.

Saitama gapes at them, and they mischievously tug at his cape and one shouts “Stranger!” before they scatter.

Genos tuts, but hunches his shoulders and pulls his hood even lower about his face,” There are only about thirty people left Master Saitama. Five of them are heroes who wanted to save us. Do you...Do you worry if you might become one of us? You still haven;t told me why you're-”

There is a loud shriek from down the hall, a roaring wind shakes the chandeliers and rips the hood from Saitama's head. It's his first instinct to run towards the commotion so he doesn't heed Genos when he shouts,” DON'T!”

The hunter keeps low, even as another shriek ravages his eardrums. He readies his fists, pulling his gloves snug, before he shoves at the grand door before him. He tucks himself and rolls behind the safety of a great bookcase so he can better survey the room.

There are several bookcases here that seem to tower to the ceiling like sequoias. Saitama whistles, forgetting subtlety and receives a twitter in response. Curious, he wanders out and is battered by wind, throwing him onto his back before a book is thrown at him,” I WILL TEAR THIS CASTLE OFF OF ITS FOUNDATIONS! YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU CROSSED THE GREAT HELLISH-”

“WIZARD!” Saitama springs up in delight,” You're the one who made my map! Hellish Wizard right? Your sist-”

“WHO DARES CALL ME?”

The hunter shields his face against another torrent of wind and claws at his collar when ice falls down his shirt. Ah, so _that_ was what kept hitting him!

“Do you want your map back?! I met your sister and I mean you no harm as favor to her! I come in peace!”

For a moment, Saitama stands there, in the musty gloom of the library. He strides forward among the towers of wood and paper and notes that some shelves are crusted with icicles. It's when he notices this, that he slips on a patch of ice and hits his head.

He almost screams.

There is a figure at the top of the shelf overhead and he sees that it is of a dark metal. Layers of metal feathers encase its body and it shudders, before a porcelain doll's head appears. It's made of a yellowed, cracked porcelain that looks singed by fire. The choppy, bob-cut like feathering that frames her face have been melted into a metal mass in places. The harpy-woman scales the bookshelf downward with scaled, feet. 

“Where are you, male-voiced thing?”

Her eyes have been plucked out and Saitama feels a pang of sorrow.

“Here.”

She descends ungracefully, almost spilling onto her face due to a great chain shackling her left foot. He had thought the clanking was due to her clockwork.

“I am Hellish Blizzard, the Harpy Gorgon! How do you know my sister?”

Saitama sits up, glad that she cannot see him ogle at her for but a moment. She is beautiful little creature despite her monstrous visage. She is lithe, and womanly, her upper body a delicate white porcelain and the only part of her except her face that looks human. He has never seen a lady to equal her beauty, even if at the moment, she is battered and wounded.

“I climbed Tornado Peak and beat her at her own game of threats. She told me about the Gilded Beast and gave me your map.”

She shivers, drawing her winged arms around herself,” She...actually...”

The creature is overcome with emotion, the black pits of her eyes welling with bright, glassy tears that freeze as soon as they hit the porcelain of her pink-painted cheek.

She shakes her head, tucking it under a wing to sob,” I can't leave! You are too late! I am already a blind and cursed creature! The only thing I can hope for is to tear this prison apart!”

Saitama holds up his hands, forgetting her blindness, for a moment,” Uh, no, don't! Maybe you can help me! I'm going to break the curse!”

“You? Who are you?”

“I am Saitama.”

Her eyes narrow,” You...how old are you?”

It seems a nonsensical question, but he doesn't have the chance to answer before Genos is barreling through the door spewing flame,” Master Saitama!”

“I'm over here du-”

“You have subdued him?! The Beast King?! Perhaps...talk to me again at midnight!”

She scales the bookcase quickly and Saitama shoves himself to his feet. Genos bounds over, cape behind him, his great, horned head free. He admires the gold of the sweptback hair that looks like twisting horns, the great black horns that spiral out of his head. He notes the long throat, the hooked nose, and the pointed witch's jaw. The face looks like a mask in its exaggerated, ugly features.

Genos flinches back from the fingers that make to curl under his jaw and draws up his hood, breaking whatever enchantment had taken Saitama.

“The harpy did you no harm?”

“Of course not, I know her sister. The...Greater Gorgon sister?”

“Of course _you_ bested her master...perhaps this was not a true test of your strength...which hallway then...” Genos began to mutter to himself and Saitama waved his hand before the Beast's face.

“Uh? Test?...Hello? You still-”

“Of course! Let us go to the courtyard!”

“Uh...sure?”

Genos swept forward and Saitama followed. He chanced a glance backward, but only saw the deep gloom of the library.

It was such a contrast to the vast courtyard. Saitama noted that the rose hedges here were overgrown. They grew wildly, breaking through the pavement. He frowned at the weeds that were interspersed across every bed.

Genos trudged on, and Saitama tried not to gasp. The plants curled away from his feet, blackening and dying as he passed.

Saitama needed to talk to Kuseno. This was beyond even him. It brought to mind stories. Stories that involved-he very nearly lost his breakfast, for there, beneath the line of trees shrouded in shadow, he saw Him.

He had no need to have seen Him before to know who he was. With blood-red eyes, ebony hair shorn close to His head and a sickly white pallor, he knew Him for what he was. Death watched over this castle.

Saitama excused himself to approach the figure. It wore a pale cloak, that moved though it was untouched by wind or water, leaning on a great ax. Death smiled at him, and Saitama felt as if his very bones were made of ice.

“Good morning,” Death said and his voice was full of smoke, full of brimstone gravel and made the hair on Saitama's body stand.

“Hello sir.”

Death cocked his head, taking up his ax to heft onto his shoulder,” That isn't like you Saitama. You need not play noble with _me_. Under me, all men are equal.”

Saitama swallowed, but his mouth still felt full of ashes,” Why have you appeared to me?”

“You cheated me and intend to cheat me again. I grow sick of this game you play. Like a cat at the shore drawing up minnows in your paw, they die anyway so why dost thou continue in this wretched way?”

Saitama had no answer.

“Will you take me?”

“You are very close, my friend. That boy was promised to me along with all others within that castle. You cannot win. I tell you thus so you may travel onward, unmolested by my ax. Uncursed by that wanderer. Here is not where you may fall...” he grinned,” If you so wish it.”

Saitama thought on Death's words. Death had struck a deal with someone.

“I don't remember cheating you.”

At this, death flies into a rage,” How can you not? Are you truly as stupid as you look? The Gorgon should have killed thee with her gaze. None were to have survived the witch's enchantment.”

It made sense, but Saitama shuddered knowing he had been so close to dying. The wheels began to turn in his mind,” I intend to break this curse.”

“Then you intend to defy me.”

Saitama sighed,”I'm sorry.”

Death grinned at him, melting into the dark,” Not yet, but you will be.”

Death was gone, and Saitama gasped. The wind hit his face, the ground surged up to meet the bottoms of his feet, and he heard Genos calling him over,” Master? You have been there for a long time!”

“Sorry!” Saitama called back and jogged over,” I got distracted. What did you want to show me?”

“I would ask that we spar against one another.”

Saitama's shoulders slumped,” Okay, but not too seriously yeah? I've never fixed a clock before-”

“I _am_ serious, and I will make sure you're serious too.”

Saitama listened to Genos's guidelines. He had no idea why the Beast wanted to fight him, but he figured this fight could serve as reassurance that Saitama could handle anything this curse could throw at him.

He had come all this way to fight and he would.

As soon as Genos shouted the start of the match he was casting spells. Saitama paid it no mind, even when Genos's speed was quadrupled. He darted around the young man and poked at his metal face from over his shoulder,” Gotcha! I win!”

Genos threw his arm, a torrent of fire rolling off of it and missing Saitama when he jumped back.

“Have you forgotten? Do not stop until I am immobilized. This will afford me some clue, I'm sure.”

Saitama saw the air waver and knew Genos had cast another spell, but Saitama had already closed the distance, and darted behind him again. He punched with as much might as he dared, just short of the shocked Beast's ugly face.

There was a great crashing and snapping as trees broke to the force of his punch for what seemed to be an entire league this time. Genos gaped at the magnitude of destruction,” How are you able to-”

Saitama told him his training regimen.

A ten kilometer run, one hundred push ups, one hundred sit ups, one hundred-

“LIES! NO ONE COULD POSSIBLY-!”

“Lord Genos! Noon is upon us!”

Mumen was at the edge of the courtyard, wringing his hands and Saitama marched up to him angrily,” You!”

Mumen looked about,” M-me?”

“Yes! You are lord regent?! You let me speak to you as if-”

Mumen laughed nervously,” I assure you it does not bother me. Lord Genos has returned anyway so that title is of no importance whatsoever!”

Saitama was about to say something before Genos walked past him,” We must return, master. Will you stay?”

Saitama shook his head,” I have much to think upon. I will see you tomorrow.”

Genos scowled and made his way to the castle, Mumen rushing ahead of him to open the door for him.

As soon as Saitama is sure they have gone, he makes his way south even as the grand clock of the castle chimes noontime. He goes in as straight a line as he can, picking a tree far ahead as his goal each time to escape the woods.

He hears the scrape of a whetstone on metal, and wishes he had his bow. A crow guffaws overhead, and with it it brings a cacophany of its brother's calls. Saitama feels dread sink low in his gut, but persists. He sees many keys over head and wonders what that must be like, to have to wind yourself like some child's toy. Not a single creature stirs in the cursed wood, and all he can hear is the cawing of crows and the whisper of the eastern wind through the trees. Finally, he sees a clearing ahead, and he runs, careful of roots and underbrush, but eager to be out.

He hears the chime of noontime. Again.

The golden castle is there, glittering beneath the full glory of the sun mid-sky and he looks back to the trees. He doesn't know how he got turned around.

“Haw! Haw!” A crow cries and Saitama sees them settle in the trees, their black beady eyes seeming to follow him.

One settles near him, hopping and Saitama feels uneasy. He turns and almost screams.

Death grins at him,” I got you.”

Saitama runs into the forest, making sure to run from tree to tree, but again, he breaks through the tree line and sees the castle, again, Death is grinning at him and again the crows laugh.


	3. Recounting

He retreated to the castle fast as his legs could take him, but even still, time seemed to warp. Where it would have only taken him an instant, it now seems an eternity before his foot even lifts off the ground. The scenery drags by. He can't get air into his lungs and he feels as though he has been encased in molasses. He draws forward sluggishly, turning as if in a nightmare as his vision blackens. He panics before he realizes that he has merely blinked, though it seems like a lifetime before he can see again.

Death whispers to him, in words he doesn't understand. They crawl into his ears with a thousand legs and rot and die in his head. He feels those things settle in his mind like like stones pitched into a very deep well, breaking the peace of his mind and too deep to retrieve. His bones weigh in his meat like lead and he knows that he must endure. Though Death mocks him, he will not be afraid. He will not bow.

His hand finally closes around the golden handle of the door and he pulls. Inch by inch, it gives and once more, air fills his lungs. His hearing comes back to him too loud as the grand clock overhead chimes the hour in tones both deep and high.

With a sick dread, he glances up at the clock over head.

It's noon.

He slams the door shut behind him, gasping as sweat gathers on his furrowed brow. Saitama leans against the door, managing to stay upright even when his limbs ache for rest. He hasn't felt this tired since the Gorgon turned him to stone.

The castle is quiet besides its constant ticking. He manages to gather himself. Saitama clears his throat, grabs up his cape to wipe his face and shoves off the door. He unlatches his waterskin from his pack and takes a long pull before shouting,” Mumen!”

There is no answer.

“Welcome.”

That low voice he heard the first time he entered the castle was back. He shuddered. To hell with magic!

“Where is everyone?”

No sooner had he said it than the voice was announcing grandly,” WELCOME MASTER SAITAMA, THE ZEDREADIAN L-”

“NO!” Saitama screamed,” I am nobody!”

His voice threw itself from him in a panic, his heart punching away,” I am no one, lord of nothing! Nobody!”

He was lord of nothing, belonging nowhere. A wanderer. A nobody. A fraud.

He could still feel the icy hand of Death trailing his spine, he felt half drowned and wished for sleep. He bit his lip. Sleep was Death's brother and he did not know if he would wake.

He did not know when he had sank to his knees, but now his body refused to stand. He feared he would never get up again. Sometimes, upon waking he would wish for it, but now his heart drummed away in his chest, practically announcing, _I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive!_

He refused to die without accomplishing anything.

“Saitama?”

He lifted his hands from his face to see Mumen in the door way of the hall that lead to the drawing room with several rolls of paper tucked beneath his arm.

“I thought you were not returning today, so this is a pleasant surprise! I will have dinner ready at seven, sera. If you so wish, tea time can be arranged at three or six.”

With some willpower, Saitama stood,” Are you busy right now?”

The clockwork man's head very slightly indicated his left, Saitama's right. It was the West Wing, where Saitama had not gone yet,” Um...”

“He's _always_ busy. Don't be stupid.”

At the sneer above, Mumen's head snapped up and they both saw Panic perched on the second floor banister like a dark, hellish sentry. Saitama decided the prongs atop his head really did look like horns.

Mumen huffed,” Stay out of this! I always have time for guests!”

Panic leapt down gracefully, rolling with his fall then springing upright before the other man with alacrity,” You told _me_ -!”

“You are _not_ a guest! You're a _mistake_!”

Panic laughed,” So here is the truth of how you actually feel! Liar!”

Saitama was shocked to silence to see the usually mild mannered regent angry. Mumen jabbed Panic in the chest with his free hand,” Yes. I will not quarrel with you any longer! If you have nothing to contribute, then stay out of my way! I have a household to run!”

Panic crossed his arms with a growl,” You're _not_ a steward! You don't _have_ to run a household! It's beneath you!”

Mumen laughed , face tight with rage as his exposed cogs spun wildly at his jaw and arms,” At least I _have_ something beneath me! What do _you_ actually have now? My key? Don't fool yourself into thinking you'll get anything for it! I don't negotiate with _criminals_.”

Saitama thought he was going to have to stop a punch before he realized Panic was waving a small, copper key in front of Mumen's face. The lord regent made to grab for it, but with a twist of Panic's hand, it had vanished,” I should just throw it back to the woods where I found it!”

Mumen grinned as he bat Panic's hand away and shoved him,” _Be my guest._.”

Panic just stared, porcelain face unreadable. Saitama thought at any moment, he would do something, but he just unhooked his mask from the hook at his metal hip and shoved it onto his face. Saitama blinked and he was gone.

“Coward.” Mumen muttered, then turned to Saitama,” I apologize sera, but...could you perhaps keep this exchange between just us?”

“Why?”

For the first time since meeting him, Saitama felt like Mumen was lying,” It's embarrassing to be caught arguing, but with the likes of _him_ it can't be helped...Please.”

“Ah, sure man, don't sweat it.”

Mumen cocked his head,” Thank you? You truly have a way to set one at ease Mister Saitama. What was it you wished to ask of me?”

Saitama scratched the back of his head with a gloved hand,” Could you take me to Genos? I wanted to talk to him about something.”

Mumen nearly dropped his cargo,” What! Um, he is not receiving visitors, sera. He has retired to the West Wing.”

Saitama looked to his right, to the balcony where he hadn't set foot,” What's in the West-”

“IT'S FORBIDDEN!”

Saitama and Mumen both jumped and Mumen really did drop the papers he was carrying. Saitama crouched to help him gather them but saw it as Mumen hurriedly tried to roll it back up.

It was a sketch of him. Mumen quickly snatched it up.

Shocked, he looked to where he thought the voice came from and saw the Beast. He waved a clawed hand and the papers flew to him.

“You shouldn't scare people like that!” Saitama admonished gruffly and the Beast pulled his cloak over his gnarled expression.

“You may go anywhere except the West Wing. Treat this castle as your home during your stay Master. Mumen!”

Mumen stood straighter,” Yes!”

“Show Master Saitama where he will be staying please and keep an eye on things. For tonight, I want no interruptions.”

Mumen ducked his head,” Yes, my liege!”

Genos nodded, and slipped behind a door.

As soon as it shut, Mumen let out an obvious sigh of relief. He turned to Saitama sheepishly,” I'll show you your chambers.”

“Thanks,” Saitama said and he followed Mumen up the grand staircase,” Hey so...what is Genos doing in there?”

Mumen stumbles up a step,” I am not allowed into the West Wing either.”

“Really?!”

Mumen nods,” Yes.”

Seeing that he will say no more, Saitama decides to dig,” Hey so that was your key right? The one that Panic had?”

“Who? Oh! Y-yes.” Mumen sounds sullen.

“Don't you need that? I thought you said you guys had to wind yourselves.”

Mumen sighs,” Yes.”

“So...why does he have it?”

“He found it.”

Saitama frowns,” So how do you wind yourself?”

Mumen ducks his head, coughing,” He does it.”

“Oh! Wouldn't it be easier to-”

Mumen covers his face, his visible cogs spinning wildly,” I don't know _why_ he does it! Perhaps to be cruel, or-the point is, that unless this will help you solve our problem, I'd rather not...talk about it. Sorry...”

Saitama flushes,” Sorry. I didn't realize it was a touchy subject. You really don't like Panic huh?”

“It's more complicated than that, sera.”

Saitama is taken aback,” What? How?”

Mumen's mouth twists,” I feel like I can trust you, sera. However this is something I have to keep to myself. I will do everything I can to help you, so long as you keep my...secret.”

It dawns on him,” That guy! He's threatening you!”

Mumen's jaw hangs and he's shaking his head frantically,” No! That isn't it at all!”

“So,” Saitama says lowly,” He's keeping you hostage while Genos doesn't know...but why...”

“It really is not as you say!”

“What, are you brainwashed too? Has some warlock's spell gotten hold of you? Open your eyes man! It's obvious!”

“It's...he's...Perhaps, I wasn't being entirely truthful about my situation, but I...Really, it is not how it seems. You must believe me. Even if I _had_ my key...the way this body is built, I would be unable to turn the key myself!”

Saitama scowled,” Why are you sticking up for him?!”

It was incomprehensible to him. Perhaps there really was something he didn't understand, but that seemed impossible. What was there not to get?

Obiously flustered, Mumen took a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door before him,” Can you keep it to yourself if I tell you?”

Saitama shook his head,” Not if you're in danger.”

“Then I can tell you,” Mumen sighed,” Sonic and I...There was a time when he and I were...close. It was under false pretenses so we're not even friends anymore.”

Mumen unlocked the door with force,” We're not anything and he's mistaken if he thinks that will change with time.”

False pretenses? Friends? Close...Oh, right!

“You said he was a thief though...what did he steal?”

The regent laughed and shook his head as he opened the door before them,” My happiness.”

Saitama ducked his head,” Sorry. I didn't mean to-I said way too-I respect you man and I'm sorry if I offended you.”

The copper man shook his head,” Not at all. It just makes me angry. You would have found out eventually...Everyone knows except my cousin. I guess I should consider it a blessing that I could tell you myself. This is your room.”

Mumen pushed open a door to a grand room. Saitama had never seen such splendor and had to squint his eyes as everything sparkled at him. Silken sheets of gold, dark cherry-colored wood furniture, a side table that seemed to be made of gold, gilded sconces filled with white faerie light, a wide window covered in expensive looking curtains and he was completely at a loss. It was like every time they showed him something else in the castle they were trying to outdo themselves and it was exhausting.

How was this castle real?

Mumen drew the curtains, letting in sunlight and naturally, the faerie light dimmed,” That's better.”

The regent pulled aside the collar of his shirt to glance at his clock, then seemed to realize what he was doing when Saitama stared,” Ah! S-SORRY! That was rather indecent of me! Haha, um, so about tea time! Will you?!”

Saitama ignored the question,” When can I speak to Genos again?”

Mumen glanced out the window,” My liege may not show his face for some time...Or he may come out tomorrow. I am sorry, but he is a creature of great determination when it comes to his magic. He was quite unhappy that were were able to best him in combat. I am sure next time you see him, he will beat you.”

“Really?!” Saitama couldn't keep the grin off of his face, but Mumen startled, looking troubled.

“Oh! Sorry, that was rather rude of me to say-!”

“No, this is...awesome.” Saitama tried to tamp down his excitement, but the prospect had his heart pounding.

Mumen bit at the edge of a metal cuticle,” I wouldn't say that Mister Saitama...”

Saitama cracked his knuckles,” I guess I can be patient. I'll pass on tea though man, I'm beat.”

“Sure, call on Geryuganshoop if you have need of anything.”

“Gray Huge and who?”

Mumen snorted, and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth,” Th-the court wizard, sera. That's his-m-maybe you should call him by title so as not to offend? If I may suggest, that is.”

“Sure.”

Mumen muffled his laughter,” I-I'll be heading out then. The adjoining room is the bathing area, but there are public baths on the first floor in the Southern Wing.”

“Hey, Genos said that there were at least thirty survivors...where are they? I've only seen you, Pa-er-Sonic, the King, some kids, and the Harpy-woman.”

Mumen's brow shot up, humor gone,” You met Fubuki?! I would...be careful around her. She's a siren to single men you know. She had half of our men in a riot!”

Saitama hummed thoughtfully,” How?”

“Gorgon's Gaze, I think, sera.”

“I'll be careful.”

“If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave Mister Saitama.”

The hunter sighed,” See you at dinner then.”

When Mumen left, Saitama cast off his armor and dived onto the bed, sprawling across it with a delighted sigh. It was incredibly soft.

He fell into a deep sleep.

Saitama of Zedread dreamed.

_His brother had been great at putting up a front, and Saitama could tell that again, he was bluffing. Luckily the aptly named King was great at lying, unlike Saitama. Again, Saitama had gotten mouthy and the older kids had beat them to a pulp. If their father knew that with all their combat training and reputation they had still gotten beat, he would finally burst that vein in his forehead._

_King said that he and Saitama had been fighting, but didn't anticipate that Saitama would be punished. Saitama didn't tell him why._

_In front of their father, he didn't talk much._

_Despite knowing he was dreaming, he still was unable to escape those words his dad uttered,” If it comes down to it, you are there to protect King and thus, the future of this kingdom. This is unacceptable Saitama. Alone, you are worthless, so find meaning in your duty and have some pride in that, at the very least.”_

_He said nothing again, even as he left his room and packed to run away, except this time, when he left, there was a young man outside the castle._

_He was fair skinned, and honey-eyed. And suddenly Saitama reached for his sword as the eyes changed._

_They were blood-red._

_The youth was bleached of all color, becoming Death, who laughed at him._

_He looked at the mark on his left hand. The mark that had changed the entire course of his fate. The constellation he was born under._

_He ran, fear ricocheting through his veins as his sword broke in his too-tight grip._

_“What if you do not wake, Saitama?_

_Do you think you'll find peace finally?_

_You've begun to wish for my Kingdom haven't you?_

_Do you like my little gift?_

_Has it settled in your bones?_

_Is it hiding behind your every thought?”_

_Saitama couldn't breathe. His chest was constricted._

_“I don't really need an answer, Saitama. I know. I know everything.”_

Saitama jolted awake and panicked to find he was tangled in something. He lifted his arms, and heard the rip of fabric.

The faerie light shone dimly now that he was awake.

His sweat drenched chest heaved and he felt sweat roll off his forehead. He had been tangled up in the sheets and now the expensive fabric was ripped where he had broken free.

It had been so easy. Like ripping through paper.

He lay back on the bed, exhausted.

He lifted his left hand to look at the five dark moles that formed the upside down Hook constellation.

He was startled out of the dark spiral of his mood by a knock at the door,” Mister Saitama, it is I. Dinner is ready.”

Saitama resisted the urge to roll over and leave this for tomorrow. He sat up, his gut clenching, and made his way to the door,” Thank you, Mumen.”

He opened the door, and Mumen startled. He didn't miss the incline of the regent's head and couldn't help but cross his arms self-consciously. He had forgotten his shirt.

Mumen cleared his throat,“Lord Genos has requested that you wear this as a sign of good faith...it is rather odd to wear armor among allies.” Mumen offers Saitama the clothes draped over his arm and he can't help but wave him off.

“No thanks. Too many layers. I don't even know how to get _into_ that!”

“I'll help you!” Mumen says too eagerly and Saitama just raises an eye brow at him until he ducks his head in embarrassment.

“A-anyway when you are ready, I shall announce you! I-I'll be out here!”

Saitama closes the door, not understanding why there is so much decorum just for dinner. Something that is done everyday shouldn't be full of such pomp.

He shakes his head.

Rich people.

In “good faith” he wears his undershirt, breeches, and greaves over them. He leaves his cuirass draped over the chair where he left it. The hunter washes his face of sweat in the washroom, which is way too bright and extravagantly decorated in painted porcelain. In the mirror, he can see his bland expression. He runs a hand over his bald head and feels a pang in his heart for his loss.

Mumen frowns when he opens the door, but says nothing as he leads him to the dining hall.

Again, Saitama is lead past the past portraits of kings and queens, but at the end of the hall, where the wall had been slashed up it was covered with fresh wallpaper like it hadn't been there to begin with.

Mumen took a deep breath before opening the door. It swung open to reveal that he and Genos would not be the only ones at dinner. The ticking of many cogs got louder as many pairs of eyes settled on him.

Mumen held open the door,” Announcing Champion Saitama!”

A champion? Is that how they were going to cover the fact they knew little to nothing about him?

Saitama looked at about twenty-something metal faces. One woman was entirely made of silver and porcelain, there were at least four people made of tin, one old man who seemed to be made of silver, about eight children, two old women made of copper, and six men made of what appeared to be gleaming steel. Seeing the porcelain woman, Saitama realized that Mumen and Genos were the only people that bothered to wear clothes and wondered why.

Genos sat at the head of the long table his people sat at and looked surly. Saitama was unsure if it was because of his face, or his mood. Gold eyes settled on him from beneath a dark, black hood and narrowed. Saitama was rooted to the ground by that disappointed gaze.

Genos stood and all eyes were on him,” You may ask of him what you will and I ask that you tell him anything you deem important to breaking our enchantment. I shall retire for the night. I think I am in the midst of a great epiphany.”

Saitama could not help but stare. The king had dressed in a deep blue brocade that was lined on either sides by brass buttons that drew your eyes in a line down his broad chest to his embroidered black trousers. Those were rolled up to his calves to accommodate his strange dragon's feet. Even though Genos smiled, it did not reach his eyes and his spaded tail lashed beneath his cape like an agitated cat.

Genos bowed, the golden rings of his iris gleaming from the depths of his hood at Saitama,” I bid you all a good night.”

The lot of his people stood to bow and bid him a good night as well and Genos swept through the dining hall with his clawed, metal feet loud on the marble. The door slammed behind him.

“Now, you've gone and done it Mister Saitama,” Mumen muttered and Saitama spun around only for Mumen to pass him with a beaming smile.

“Welcome friends! This is the greatest fighter from this side of the alps! Come Mister Saitama, break bread with us so that we may know you!”

If Saitama had known he would have to socialize, he would not have shown his face at all.

Saitama sits to Mumen's right and feels uncomfortable that he will be the only one eating. It's a lovely dinner of roast duck, liver pudding, black bread and greens but his appetite is gone as twenty-three pairs of doll eyes settled on his face.

Sensing the tension, Mumen took over,” So why don't we all introduce ourselves then?”

The two copper old ladies sighed, and the shinier one mumbled,” I don't think now is the time for pleasantries.”

One of the older children scoffed, digging blunt fingers beneath the broken paneling on his right arm,” Why?”

One of the bigger of the steel men stood,” No, what I want to know is what you're gonna actually do!”

“Hey,” Mumen started half-heartedly.

The porcelain woman covered her face and started sobbing. One of the other children went to comfort her.

The silver old man stood and they all looked to him,” You heroes are all the same. It doesn't matter _what_ you do. It's been four years, I'd rather hear news of the outside world.”

At this the people all nodded and Saitama started sweating as all eyes settled on him again.

Mumen took the opportunity,” Why don't you tell us how you became a hero Mister Saitama.”

“Uh, well I just-”

At first, they were looking at each other skeptically as Saitama recounted his boring daily life as a hunter. He talked of the market and how he was the best at haggling. He almost forgot himself recounting the deals he could get before he noticed the audience's impatience. He went on to tell them about the disappearances, the killed animals, the dead crops. He told them about Tornado Peak and the way they assumed it was his fault because he lived so close to the mountain's summit.

They grew skeptical at his resolve to train. Some of the steel men nodded in approval. The children were still bored.

They all gasped when he told them about the creature, and laughed when he told them of his mistaking her for a child.

They were in awe of his gained strength, and to his anger, they laughed at his hair loss and laughed even harder at his anger at their laughing.

They were saddened by his leaving his village, but grew excited as he talked of the things he had seen, places he had been.

He forgot to eat as he told them about the thousand foot snowman, and had them shuddering in fear when he told them about Pirate King Boros. They didn't believe his story about the Sky Rock that very nearly crushed the Hall of Fang. They laughed at his mishaps, were in awe of his feats, and doubted a woman had risen from a great lake to hand him a sword. They laughed when he admitted he broke it.

They didn't believe he had found two greater dragons fighting in the caverns beneath the Gantua mountains that prevented the dwarven king from building his castle. They didn't believe that there were people who coexisted with horses and ran free across the plains. They didn't believe he had met the arrogant, blue fairy, King Amai.

They stayed there a long time, Saitama drinking two pitchers of water and talking until his mouth was dry. He had never talked so much, but they asked him a lot and pulled the answers like teeth. In his own, matter-of-fact way he continued until his eyes grew heavy. Mumen stood to announce that they should let him rest.

He didn't remember going back to his room, but he did remember collapsing into his bed.

He remembered waving Mumen off at his call of,” A good night to you, Mister Saitama.”


	4. Bright

Saitama woke to the sound of the clock chiming midnight. Groaning, he grabbed one of the many pillows littering the bed and shoved it over his head. The clock seemed to chime even louder and he threw the pillow across the room. Feathers exploded out of it and he sat up to run hands over his face. He hadn't mean to throw it _that_ hard. He would have to wait it out.

He scooted back to lean against the intricately carved headboard, laying his head on his arms. Just as his eyes slipped closed again, a thought buzzed him awake.

Wasn't he supposed to...do something?

He yawned.

He had no idea what it could be so he ambled over to the washroom. He wet a towel and wiped down his face, noting his tired expression in the polished mirror.

“What was I supposed to do?”

He glanced over to the window that overlooked the bath. He noted with a dulled sense of delight that it was attached to knobs and pipes just like Kuseno's. Magic was...curses were...

He ran a hand over the cold porcelain of the tub, wondering how people could work such complicated magic.

It was weird that the bathing basins were made of porcelain here of all things. It seemed delicate. Like fine china...

The thought struck through him like lightning and he ran into the bedroom to pull on his shirt and armor. Once he was fully dressed, he cleaned his teeth, then ran as fast as he possibly could, down the stairs, down hallways, through doorways with the borrowed map in his hand.

He threw open the door of the library, hoping that the younger Gorgon was still willing to talk.

The library was almost in complete darkness and he said,” _Igni_ ” without much thought. Immediately he had to stomp out the fire that sprang up around his feet. He heard the rattling of a chain and knew that she was drawing near.

Cursing, he left the door open as far as he could and headed into the library,” Hello? Hellish Blizzard? I uh, can't see!”

He heard her sullen voice,” You don't need to. Can you hear me?”

“Y-yes!”

“You still believe you can break the curse, young Saitama?”

“Yes.”

“Come hither then. _Illuminate._ ”

Saitama shut his aching eyes against the assault of bright faerie light. He had only ever been able to use his fire spell successfully, so it hadn't occurred to him to try anything else. He walked forward, easily stepping over patches of ice. He tried not to let surprise show on his face when he saw two of the steel-made men leaning against the shelves with the porcelain girl. The biggest one stepped forward, crossing his arms,” It is customary to introduce oneself when presenting yourself to such a well known guild as the Blizzard Group!”

Realizing Saitama wasn't going to respond, a more spindly man stepped forward. His ridiculously long lashes fluttered in maybe anger, maybe because he was flustered,” So introduce yourself!”

“I am Saitama.”

The men and woman muttered among themselves, giving Saitama disapproving looks.

“Are you messing with me?” They all look up to see the harpy's thunderous expression. The dark sockets of her eyes creeped Saitama out and he was glad she couldn't see that.

“Um...so you are the one who told me to come so...I'm here.”

“This is true,” the harpy admits. She crosses her legs from her perch on a shelf above,” but I don't like your arrogance. Do you know who you're talking to?”

Saitama rolls his eyes,” You don't have to put up a strong front because your friends are here you know. If you want your map back, I brought it.”

The porcelain girl pushes off the wall with a shout,” How dare you talk to Miss Blizzard with such insolence!”

The broader man steps forward, unable to crack his knuckles because he is made of steel, but he does the motion for it and has Saitama almost laughing. He bites his tongue as the man speaks,” Maybe I should teach you a thing or two 'bout how'da talk t' a lady eh?”

“You talk to them like anyone else? Anyway, I didn't come here to fight, I really just thought you might have some...I dunno. You made the map, so I figured you knew more about the area...I guess not.”

He makes to leave and that's when her cronies strike. In the same exasperated sigh, he punches them into the air and the metal men and porcelain girl land on the tops of shelves. Saitama can't even muster a second disappointed sigh as books rain down from the jostled shelves. It was over in an instant. No sooner has he acted, then it is already over.

Just like always.

Why has his life become so boring?

He glances up from his fist, to Blizzard who looks horrified,” Guys? Lily? Wild Monkey! Eyelashes! Hey! Lily! W-”

“We're...fine Miss Blizzard.” the spindly man groaned from above and the woman visibly relaxed, tears gathering and freezing in her eyes,” Thank goodness.”

“Uh, this has been...Can I go now?”

Blizzard stands,” It seems you are a formidable foe. I shall face you.”

Saitama groans,” I really don't want to fight right now. I was sleeping you know! I'm just gonna go...”

A torrent of freezing wind hit him. Droplets of snow slid down his neck and he yelped as he hurriedly tried to catch it before it slid down his shirt. He braced himself, hunkered down, then launched himself at the bookshelf, ramming it to unsettle the harpy. With a cry, she slipped from her perch and fell.

She tried to catch herself with her wings, but they were melted together and wouldn't completely fold out. Saitama caught her deftly before she cracked her porcelain body and deposited her unceremoniously on the floor,” Cut it out. You're way too emotional for this time of night.”

“If I had my eyes-!”

“I'm going back to sleep. If you wanna fight someone call Genos instead.”

“How did you know about that?” Her voice was low, and dangerous-sounding. It had Saitama's interest piqued.

“You lost, huh?”

“Damn you!” the porcelain girl screamed at him.

Blizzard stood on shaky legs,” What of it? This isn't permanent. I am going to do whatever it takes to get to the the top. I'm going to break this curse, tear down this place and regain my glory!”

“Good resolve. Okay see you!” Saitama waved at her, forgetting she couldn't see him and was yet again stopped,” Wait!”

“You met my sister...did she...send you to save me?”

“I don't know anything about that.”

“I see...You seem pretty strong Saitama...Perhaps you would consider joining our group.”

“I'll pass.”

“M-maybe! Wait! Hey! Maybe we can work out a deal!”

“There's nothing you have that I want.”

“I think I may know how to break the curse!”

Saitama stops. He shuts the library door. He turns.

The harpy laughs,” The information isn't free hero, of course.”

“I'm not joining your stupid guild. Guild dues are a scam.”

The woman heaves a long-suffering sigh and Saitama is glad she can't see the way his eyes went to her chest,” I don't want you in my group anyway!”

Saitama bites back a laugh. She sounds like a petulant child, feigning disinterest. He chuckles,” So what _do_ you want?”

She grins,” My sight back. I don't know where Prin- _King_ Genos put my eyes, but I need them. When we break this curse, I don't want to be permanently blind! Do this, and I'll tell you what I know!”

“And what about me?” Saitama says, and her mouth drops open in shock.

“Isn't that enough?!”

Saitama crosses his arms,” I'll know about the curse to help you, and you'll have your eyes. Where's _my_ part of the deal?”

Her body shudders,” Well...what do you _want_?”

“I want to be a hero.” he says, because it's true.

“Aren't you already a hero?”

“Heroes have songs about them. They're remembered. I mean, you haven't even heard of me, have you?”

Her small shoulders slump,” No. Is there anything _I_ can do?”

He thinks about it. Eventually, Blizzard sits down, and then after a long while she begins to fidget with her wings and he realizes that he's been silent a long time.

“What do you like?” she asks tiredly.

“Like?”

“YES! WHAT DO YOU LIKE?!”

He shrugs,” I don't really have anything like that...I guess I like a good deal when I manage to haggle a good price...I like illustrations.”

She lights up, her face in a bewitching smile,” I will get Prince Genos to paint you!”

Saitama waves his hand dismissively,” He already drew me...I think? Anyway I'm getting tired, Fubuki. I'm gonna call it a night.”

“Pr- _King_ Genos is upset with you. You spat in the face of his hospitality! My associates told me so!”

A warbling voice that must belong to the porcelain girl sounds from somewhere above,” It's true.”

Saitama's stomach sank as he remembered Mumen's words in the mess hall,“How?! I didn't mean to-”

“It doesn't matter! You insulted him in front of his remaining citizens! I can help you make it up to him! You'll need his help breaking the curse. In fact, he is pivotal!”

“There's no way. I'll talk to him about it!”

“Idiot! That could take weeks for you to see him again!”

Saitama storms out of the library as Fubuki cries,” He's a broody teenager! I'm your only chance!”

He'll talk to Mumen and ask about it. He's sure the regent wouldn't lie to him if it was true that he insulted his cousin.

“RICH PEOPLE!” He ended up yelling it out of exasperation and heard his frustrated voice echo to land on his shoulders like a too heavy bird. He stomped up the stairs hoping that someone, _anyone_ was listening and would dare to ask him what was the matter.

Who would care?

That thought hit him more harshly than usual, knocking the anger right from him and nothing replaced it. There was an emptiness that threatened to hollow him out, but he tried desperately to imagine something good.

He imagined the cursed King-it was difficult to imagine him un-cursed, but he imagined a vague young man eating his words and thanking him over and over. He imagined people crowding around him and asking him to just stay for dinner and of course he would refuse, but they would do it anyway. With insistence. Not wanting to insult their hospitality, he would accept.

After dinner, the King would rise from his chair to smile at Saitama. One that reached his eyes, a real smile this time, and maybe he would raise his glass in a toast. Everyone would look to him.

Please stay, please stay, please stay.

Each of them would ask and he would be unable to say no. When he said yes, the King and everyone would smile so wide, it would look like they were trying to imitate Sonic. Your place is here with us, they'd say.

You're our hero.

We need you here.

Maybe he could help them rebuild and they would be in awe that he could build houses so quickly and he would tell them that he had built an entire castle in a week. Maybe they would believe him, maybe they wouldn't but they wouldn't laugh at him. They wouldn't call him a liar even if they thought so.

Because he would have earned their respect.

Maybe new people would move into the kingdom and Saitama could be betrothed again. Maybe he could find someone to call his own. And when he told her about the last time, she would tell him that she was glad it hadn't worked out because she would say she was glad to have met him. She couldn't imagine doing something like that to Saitama of all people. That she loved him even and maybe she would mean it.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Or maybe he would have a tearful farewell and go onward, promising to come back one day. He would head east, against the wind and find the Great Water. By the time he circled the entire world, he could revisit those places and see how he had helped them. Then, he could be faced with how useful he was. Everyone would notice him, and they would all ask him to just stay for a little while. Stop for a moment, to rest, to talk. Just a quick “How are you!” before he took off again.

He made his way to his chambers, head full of half-there hopes and sighed. It had never turned out that way, not even for the greatest of heroes. He threw himself onto the bed and for some time, he tossed and turned. He scrubbed himself down in the tub, and then tried to sleep again, but his stomach was in worried knots. Trying to quell his nerves he ate bits of roasted pheasant he had packed away the day before and ate two pieces of jerky. 

He realized after a while that he had had the map when he went to the library, but had come back without it and wondered if he had dropped it somewhere. At that thought, he ventured out of his room, noting the weak, blue light that began to fill the hallways as dawn broke. His tread was light on the hallway carpets and it felt as if he were the only person in the entire castle.

“Good morning Mister Saitama!”

“Mumen? Oh, hey!”

Mumen's arms were flecked with dirt, a basket of beets in hand. He was dressed in a loose, splotchy gray tunic that was belted over tight, black braies. The copper man's smile was wide and too bright for this early in the morning.

“It's early! Do you ever sleep?” Saitama laughed, and even if Mumen recovered quickly, Saitama had seen it. The man had flinched, looking... _guilty_?

It was hard to tell, but Mumen laughed,” Um. No one sleeps around here, sera.”

Saitama winced,” Sorry. I guess this isn't the first time I put my foot in my mouth aha...Genos said you lot can't eat either and I- Anyway that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about!”

The regent startled,” Oh? You wanted to speak to me? Talk away, Mister Saitama.”

“It's about Genos.”

The regent tensed visibly, the cogs at his jaw spinning wildly for a moment,” What about Lord Genos, sera?”

“Fubuki said I insulted him.”

Mumen huffed irritatedly, and he shifted the basket onto his hip,” And what would Miss Blizzard know about _that_. I told you that woman is nothing but trouble Mister Saitama.”

Saitama rubbed at the back of his neck,” The porcelain girl and those steel guys told her I guess...Is it true?”

Mumen sighed,” Yes, sera. He was upset that you did not wear the outfit provided after he declared you his champion and teacher. To wear armor among friends would imply that one still expects a fight. He thought you did not trust that you were safe.”

His stomach lurches,” I didn't meant to! It was only greaves, I just hate all those layers! It's stuffy!”

Mumen smiled kindly,” I am sure if you explain yourself my liege would understand.”

“Isn't there anyway you could ask him to speak with me? I really didn't mean to offend him!”

Mumen frowned,” I'm afraid not. He is still in the West Wing. Ever since Blizzard took over his library, he has retreated to the Royal Quarter.”

Saitama snorted,” Took over? She's shackled to it!”

Mumen nodded,” Yes.”

Saitama was getting annoyed with how curt Mumen's answers could be,” She said they fought.”

Mumen adjusts the lenses on his face,” They did.”

“What about?”

Mumen frowns, looking away from Saitama,” Me.”

Nonplussed, Saitama can't even think about it. He can't even form a question and his mind empties itself. He manages to make a quizzical sound that isn't a word.

“She is Genos's godmother. It took her some time to get here, but she...after we were cursed she said this happened because I lack the good judgment to be regent. I didn't have the vision. Genos disagreed, and she still went against he and the late King's wishes.”

Mumen looked troubled, his shoulders hunched in on himself and Saitama didn't know what to say, but the other man continued without prompting,” I am afraid she's right. I trusted Sonic and he betrayed us, I didn't sense the Mad Wizard and I could not save anyone but the scant few people you see here...I've failed and now all I can do is keep our heads up and hang my hopes on you Mister Saitama. What kind of fool still keeps going after that?”

Saitama had no answer and the other man shook his head,” Sorry. I often speak beyond my station. Let me know if you have need of me. It is still early yet, but breakfast is at nine. Greet the day, sera.”

Saitama remembered to nod and let him go. By now, he had forgotten the map, but decided to try and leave the castle once again. After a long while, he managed to find the exit, making his way down the grand staircase, but his eyes lingered on the adjoining one that led to the West Wing. Not wanting to upset the King further, he decided to stay away from it. Fubuki's empty sockets chilled him. How could someone do that to their godmother?

“What did you speak to him about?”

Saitama turned from his spot on the last step to the floor above where the smokey voice had spoken. Sonic was laying on the banister much like a great cat. His silver eyes spun sluggishly from their pits beneath his mask.

“This and that,” Saitama said tersely. He had never cared for Sonic, and the fact that he had made things difficult for Mumen was enough to tip the scale from indifference to dislike.

“Lies.” the grinning man spat and he slipped from the banister to the landing below,” You lie.”

Saitama scowled, heading for the door,” I don't have time for this.”

Sonic watched him quietly. Saitama managed to pull the door ajar before the dark man spoke again,” Did he speak of me to you?”

Saitama rolled his eyes in exasperation,” Ask him yourself.”

He slammed the door behind him and glanced to the sun. It was rising from the east and he headed towards it. He didn't see a single suspicious shadow. He could hear the chirrups of sparrows, a robin, a thrush...No crows.

As the sun climbed and he steadily made his way through the wood, light glinted off of the hanging keys like a canopy of stars. He didn't know why, but he was drawn to a silver key with a worn square handle. He ripped it from an aspen over head and turned it in his palms. It was decidedly not-magic, but before he pocketed it, he saw her.

It was that first clockwork woman he encountered. The one with the missing hand. He drew close, seeing her remaining hand still full of keys and the misfit key in a port at her chest. He looked across her pewter arm to the stump of the wrist. If he remembered correctly, the hand was somewhere on a root? Or something...

He searched the area, and finally after the sun had risen higher, he saw the delicate metalwork hand and whooped with triumph. He snatched it up and brought it back to the woman. Gently, he held the hand against the broken joint. He plucked the key from the port and pocketed it. Saitama pulled the new key from his pocket and saw that unlike the pewter maiden, it was steel. Uncertainty hung in the air, but he decided it was worth a shot. He slotted the steel key into the lock with no problem and tried to wind it back. The gears lurched, shifted, then stuck. The hunter bit his lip, turning the key with a bit more force, but imagined the handle snapping off into his hand and a thousand other terrible things before the cogs he could see within the glass window of her chest began to turn.

The woman's eyes closed, opened, closed over and over.

He spun the key back and back and back until it stuck and was actually in danger of snapping.

Still she did not stir.

Saitama felt his heart sink into numbness. For a moment he had felt a glimmer of hope like breaching through the surface of water to the sky. Now, he sighed and felt the air weigh heavily in his chest when he breathed again. He was unsure whether to take the woman back to the castle or not.

The other people there might think him morbid, or cursed. He tugged his left glove more snugly over his hand.

He really didn't have much to lose anyway. He pulled her into his arms, and immediately cried out because he had forgotten to pocket the hand! Her arm slid from her stomach, but there was no tell tale sound of metal hitting the forest floor. He adjusted her in his arms and saw that the wrist joint was fixed.

Head reeling, he took off back toward the castle fast as his feet could take him. The maiden rattled in his arms and he silently promised her he would do all he could. His stomach twisted almost painfully and he was unsure if it was his sense or that he was hungry.

He cursed his inability, but he still ran. He closed in on the castle, making his way up the gold steps and kicking open the door,” MUMEN?! CASTLE MAGE GUY?!”

“ _Welcome again, Lord Saitama._ ” the low voice greeted, then,” ANNOUNCING NOBODY LORD OF NOTHING!”

Saitama winced. Hearing his own thoughts aloud from someone else's disembodied voice didn't sit well with him,” Uh, yeah could you help me out?”

“It is done.” said the voice and spoke no more.

Heart sinking, Saitama looked to the motionless clockwork woman in his arms,” What can be done?”

Saitama jumped at the jeer of,” Oh, how the mighty have falle-! What have you got there _hero_? You have the key, the girl...so what is _missing_?”

Sonic was leaning against the doorway of the Northern Wing, mask at his hip and coin eyes still for once as he laughed at Saitama. He grimaced at the key in her chest. It fit and turned, however..Sonic made to leave, but Saitama was in front of him in an instant,” Tell me how.”

Startled, the dark man jolted backward, hands up in defense before he regained his composure,” Clever trick, but when I wanted answers...where were you? This doesn't seem fair to _me_.”

Saitama set the woman down and crossed his arms as confidently as he could manage,” What do you want to know?”

Sonic shook his head, beginning to strut around Saitama at a distance. The cogs at his arms and legs spun wildly as he unhooked his mask and twirled it,” You have a terrible memory. You're unobservant.”

Saitama did not have to know the word to know that Sonic was insulting him,” So?”

“So!” The man snickered, “Mumen-”

“What.”

Somehow they had both missed the sound of the dining hall door opening, but there the copper-made regent stood, arms crossed with a frown crumpling his features. His lip curled in disgust at Sonic,” What.”

Sonic seemed to shrink back, even though he was still snidely grinning,” Saitama found this woman's key. She will not wake.”

There was a soft gasp, and then Mumen saw her,” It's Miss Psykos...”

Saitama sighed in frustration,” It doesn't matter who she is! How do I make her key work?”

Mumen looked to Sonic, but the other man just replaced his mask,” You can hang your hopes on this idiot if you want, Mumen. You always believed in _heroes_ but what has he done except take advantage of your hospitality?”

Before Mumen could answer, Sonic cackled loudly and vanished. Saitama noticed the gentle slump of Mumen's shoulders,” It's...nine o' clock, sera. Breakfast is ready.”

“What about the woman!”

Mumen shook his head,” It's no use. She will not wake. I will take her to the rest of them.”

“The rest?”

Mumen looked at him, expression pained and voice shaking,” There are others like her...they have their keys but they were found after the stillness took them. They missed the midnight curfew and will not wake.”

The regent sighed, and somehow seemed smaller than he ever had,” Please don't tell Fubuki about this woman...I'm afraid she will try something drastic in an attempt to-”

“Save her?”

“Kill her.”

Saitama's eyes widened,” What! Why?”

Mumen sighed,” Perhaps we can talk over breakfast Mister Saitama. I will take her to the lake and then I will join you to talk about it.”

“Alright.”

Saitama once again passed through the hallway of kind gazes. This time, he looked for the previous monarch. Mumen had said the late King had left him in charge, but the last two paintings in the hallway were more prominently of women. They wore the ten-pronged crown and were painted with faces that seemed to glow with an inner light. Their sons, daughters, and husbands all grouped to their sides. He noticed the new wallpaper that covered the gash in the wall. He ran his hand against it with force, and the wallpaper dented in a crease where it lay. Perhaps this was where the previous ruler's portrait had been. Why had it been removed? Perhaps whatever had slashed the wall had damaged it? Did Genos get along with his father? How old was he?

If Mumen was lord regent, that meant that he had had rule over the castle for a time before Genos had come of age...

Saitama shook his head, almost laughing at himself. The politics of the castle didn't matter. He was trying to break a _curse_ , not make speculations like a gossiper.

Genos said that he had told him all he knew, but it seemed there was more than anyone was telling him. These things like Mumen's key, Sonic being able to turn it, people not waking, the deformed animal, Death's appearance, the way Genos was cursed to look inhuman, and the timing of the clock seemed connected somehow. He wasn't much of a thinker so perhaps for now, he should do what he could to earn Mumen, Sonic, Fubuki, and even Lord Genos's trust. They all seemed to know more than he did. Sonic and Fubuki both claimed they did.

Saitama entered the mess hall and again the chair at the very center of the nobles' table had dinnerware set before it. His mouth watered at the sight of roast beets, some kind of roasted fish and rolls. It was an odd combination, but he enjoyed the meal anyway. He supposed the beets he was eating were the same that Mumen had been carrying this morning. Did that mean that...

Saitama nearly choked on his orange juice as he gasped,” Is the lord regent _cooking_ for me?!”

When he thought he was a butler, it had been fine, but now he knew that the regent was, if he actually _was_ cooking, doing things well below his station! There were plenty of common folk among their numbers! And yet-

Maybe Sonic was right and he was taking advantage of Mumen's kindness. Fubuki had said that he had insulted the King too, but he was still no closer to a break through than before! How could he repay them except to try even harder to break the curse?

That settled it. As he polished off his meal, he gave it some serious thought. Mumen needed his key back. That could be a start. Fubuki was occupying the library Genos used to spend his time in. Perhaps he could somehow both free her, and reclaim the library in a peaceful way? If he could resolve their differences, he was sure that they would open up more. Perhaps they were each holding information they didn't feel was important or too was personal to share with him or each other that was pertinent to breaking the spell?

Mumen did not return, even after he had finished. The hunter supposed that he was busy, so he decided to look for Sonic. As he exited the hallway of kind gazes, he had a clear view of the West Wing's banister and the doorway. The door was like the others and only retained an air of ominous mystery because he knew that he was forbidden to go there.

He thought of the way the King's smile hadn't reached his eyes that night. The way his golden eyes had gleamed at him mirthlessly from beneath his hood. Saitama wondered what the young man would have said had he worn the outfit he had provided? He wondered if Lord Genos would have laughed at his hair loss the way the others had, or if Genos would have believed his stories at all. The King had wanted to learn the secret of his strength hadn't he? Saitama wondered why.

“He's kind to you, I hope you're grateful.”

“I was about to go looking for you.”

Sonic was casually sitting on the stairs and Saitama couldn't help but ask,” Were you waiting for me?”

Silver eyes narrowed at him,” You mock me now, but as soon as Mumen sees you for the fraud you are? _I'll kill you._ You heroes never last long. No will power. No discipline.”

“Why are you holding Mumen Riderson hostage?”

Sonic snickers,” Is _that_ what he told you? _Oh save me, mighty hero!_ Why don't you stick to things you understand?”

“What isn't there to get? You have a key, he needs a key.”

Sonic grinned,” Should I tell you, or should I show you? Hm. I know Mumen didn't ask you to help, but maybe you fancy him and think you can get into the lord regent's good graces by 'saving' him? Ha!”

Saitama was puzzled,” Dudes...don't strike my fancy. I want to help him. I want to help all of you!”

“How. Noble.” Sonic always talked mockingly and Saitama grew weary of it.

“I know you know something!”

The maddeningly amused man cackled,” And you know nothing! I'll show you if you'll only tell me...Did the lord regent speak of me to you?”

Sonic said it nonchalantly, eyes glittering, but he had asked this question before. Mumen had said almost nothing about him. He was vague about the nature of the betrayal that dissolved their friendship, but Sonic wanted to know. He kept Mumen at his mercy. Saitama had no idea what Sonic would do to Mumen if he didn't like the answer.

“He didn't really say much...he said you were friends once, but that you were cruel. I asked him if he hated you and he said it was complicated.”

“You'll find me here at midnight. Follow me and I'll show you.”

He blinked, and Sonic was gone.

He sighed and headed to the library, unsettled by Sonic's words. He was about to turn the corner when he heard a loud ringing in his ears. The hunter thought that if strange things could stop happening, he would be much happier. The ringing stopped just as soon as it started and he sighed in relief. That would have driven him mad.

He rubbed at his ear, and continued only to stop in his tracks.

The tall, hooded figure that could only be Genos was at the library door. His back was to Saitama, but Mumen was before him, head bowed and nodding respectfully before he glanced up and caught Saitama's eye. Genos noticed and turned.

Again, the hunter was unsure if Genos really was displeased or if his beastly features just made him look so,” Good morning, Master.”

“Yes, greet the day, sera.”

“ Mornin',” Saitama replied nervously, clenching his fists to his side. He decided to bow and did it stiffly. Genos's eyes gleamed from beneath his hood.

Genos seemed to be waiting so he continued,” Um, you really don't have to call me Master or anything. I don't have much to teach anyone! And...I am well below your station.”

“Walk with me.” Genos says gruffly, and then he's heading away, down the hall,” You too, cousin if you please.”

“Of course, sire!”

Mumen falls into step behind Genos and encourages Saitama to walk beside him. He wants to apologize for insulting him, but Genos's cloak parts as he draws forward regally and Saitama is struck to silence, what he had to say lost in awe of the beast before him.

His clothes are a bright sky-blue embroidered with what seems a thousand gold songbirds. The sleeveless brocade pulls tight across the Beast's broad chest and is fastened with a line of gold buttons. Again, Genos's black trousers are rolled up to his calves to accommodate his inverted legs, and from this close, Saitama can see the way the gears interlock, and the imitation hamstrings push and pull.

Noting Saitama's gaze, Genos draws his cloak around himself.

“Uh, you don't have to do that!”

Genos looks at him unblinkingly,” It's not for your benefit.”

Saitama flushes self-consciously,” Um, I did want to apologize for-”

“There's no need. Mumen says you gained your power by surviving the Gorgon's Gaze.”

Genos crosses his arms challengingly, as if he expects Saitama to refute it.

He can feel himself start to sweat,” Sort of? I don't really know.”

Genos's eyes gleam,” Intriguing.”

“Not really!” Saitama says, but Mumen steps forward.

“It really is! Saitama has traveled a great distance and has helped so many people, sire! He-”

“There's really no need to butter me up, I'm just a knight errant-er-except without the title...or the status...or a horse...or-”

“ Mumen tells me you defeated two greater dragons.”

“What! No! I-”

Mumen nods enthusiastically,” They were fighting over a dwarven treasure trove and Saitama out-dragon-ed them!”

“Huh? Well I-”

“He said you met the Fairy Monarch and earned her favor.”

“Well Amai is actually a man and I wouldn't say he favors me just that he's obligated to-”

Genos steps forward and Saitama's stammering comes to a halt. He is intimidating in his tall stature, and somehow Saitama feels...threatened. It's a flapping of his heart in its cavity that tickles his stomach with a sense of dread, of expectation of what, he does not know.

“So modest.” the King says thoughtfully and Saitama shakes his head. Anyone would do what he did in that position. He just selfishly wanted to be a hero. Even if it was for others' benefit, when it came down to it it was for him in the end. If he didn't do something, what kind of person would that make him?

It wasn't for other people. Other people bored him. They were bored by him. Just an aimless man, wandering with no direction in mind, fueled by the memory of adrenaline and putting his life on the line for it.

He wouldn't call it a death wish. Never that. If anything he wanted to feel... _alive_ again.

He tugged his left glove more securely on his hand,” No. I just go with the flow.”

“So you do what others expect you to...”

“Th-That isn't it either!”

Genos hums and Mumen is standing ramrod straight, tension rolling off of him in waves before he finally speaks,” It is almost noon sire.”

Genos's head snaps to Mumen and the man flinches,” How long?!”

“You have an hour, my liege.”

“I would ask that you fight me again, teacher. This time, I am sure that I will beat you.” Genos sounded so sure of himself that Saitama wanted to believe it. His sliver of hope had been whittled down to a grain of sand, a mere impression of an object and yet, it remained.

That was enough of a reason to nod and follow him.

Genos was even faster, and Saitama had been right. Genos had modified his legs, changed them somehow. He felt that he had seen their make before, but the idea slipped like water from his hands when yet again, he dodged a plume of white-hot fire. He could hear Mumen yelling and turned, but then Genos drew near again, seeming to pull the breath from his lungs.

“ _Don't you dare take your eyes off of me._ ”

Yet again, it was barely an effort, but Saitama could feel a dull thudding in his chest. Sunlight glanced off of Genos's dazzling, golden armor and he squinted against it. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and was hit.

He wasn't concerned with being hurt, but as he removed himself from the crater he had made in the earth, he saw the wide scorch marks in the land, the deep gouges where Genos and skid and relaunched himself.

Genos landed before him, lips curled around black fangs,” You...don't even see me as a...Master Saitama. Do you think I have gotten stronger?”

Saitama could not gauge Genos's strength as he was and he didn't know the words that would tell Genos the difference between then and now. He fumbled for a moment, brushing nonexistent dirt from his already pristine cape,” I would say that...there's um. Something there that wasn't... _there_ before? Like you are practically sparkling now when before...I mean, that.”

Genos roared, an inhuman, blood curdling rumble that rattled Saitama's eardrums and raised the remaining hair of his body,” You...I am serious about winning.”

“Lord Genos! Noon is upon us!”

Genos stared at Saitama, who said nothing and then stalked back to the castle.

Saitama glanced at the line of trees, sighing when he did not see a familiar figure. He had just decided to grab his bag and camp again before the beginning chime of noon started from within the castle. In-between that chime and the next he heard the rasp of metal on whetstone. He heard the flutter of wings, and he was rushing to the castle.

He tumbled into the open door, nearly falling onto the intricately patterned tile.

“It's nice of you to join us again, sera.”

“Where did Genos go?!”

Mumen frowned,” He left for his quarters in the West Wing.”

Saitama shook his head,” How could you talk me up like that! Dude, I thought we were cool!”

Mumen tensed, metal eyebrows shooting up toward his hairline,” I don't understand? Are you upset with me?”

Saitama couldn't keep his incredulousness out of his tone,” Uh-DUH. You made me seem like a-a-”

“A hero?” Mumen asked and Saitama ran gloved hands over his bare scalp in frustration.

“He gonna expect me to like be amazing and fix this and my track record is awful!”

“I don't understand.”

“Where did I lose you!? This is so messed up! I still have no idea how to help! Mumen you gotta help me!”

Mumen tentatively settled a metal hand on his shoulder, and fixed him with a kind quirk of his copper mouth,” Mister Saitama, I have every intention of helping you. Everyone believes you can do it.”

Saitama felt he was lying, but he managed to quell his panic. He was probably their last hope,” Didn't Genos say that in one year you'll all die? Of what? How do you guys even know?”

He wondered if they had seen the Death's pale, red-eyed visage at the edge of the woods. If they had heard the rasp of his ax sharpening at the ready, or his watchers laughing in the trees.

“Lord Genos knows.”

Saitama huffed in frustation, grinding his teeth,” He won't speak to me! All he does is sulk and-”

“He's a teenager Mister Saitama. He has been through much, and lost even more so forgive him if he's a little impatient, a little angry, a little frustrated. Everything rests on his shoulders now and he has not been successful in breaking this enchantment.”

Saitama wilted, feeling guilt douse the flame of his ire,” How old _is_ the kid?”

“Nineteen, sir.”

One year shy of adulthood, and already he was dealing with so much. Or he shouldn't be,” Wait! If he's a minor-? Then _YOU'RE THE ACTING POWER_!?”

Mumen winced, stepping back,” I am within earshot, sera so there is no need to yell.”

“Sorry! But aren't you doing things below your station?!”

Mumen laughed,” Not at all. Lord Genos is home now. I am more of a royal vizier than anything. A servant to the crown.”

Saitama was baffled, but Mumen just shook his head and ushered him along,” Let us go from here, sera.”

It was as they were winding closer to the entry hall that Saitama remembered the woman,” Hey Riderson! Where did you take that 'Psycho' woman anyway?!”

Mumen paused, hand outstretched for the door to the drawing room,” Oh. The underground wellspring, sera. Would you like to go?”

“Hold on, I gotta grab my bag from my room and then we'll go!”

Saitama hurriedly ran to his room, flung his pack over his shoulder and followed Mumen. They went to the entrance hall, the sunlight beaming through the dome overhead and glancing off Mumen's copper head. It was when they headed straight for the western side of the castle that Saitama clamped his mouth shut over his quiet grunt of surprise. It was like the quiet was a spell over them and any sound could bring Mumen to remember that they were _forbidden to set foot there._

Instead of heading up the stairs, they went under the awning of the banister and balcony above to stand between two pillars facing the wall. Before Saitama could say anything, Mumen reached for the painting before him. It was a bland charcoal sketch of a field with some trees in the distance. It looked like a study rather than something to be framed so prominently. Mumen dug his fingers under the lower half of the frame and lifted it.

Saitama clamped his hand over his mouth as he laid eyes on the dark pit before them. Mumen stepped over the low wall into the depths and disappeared.

It was a moment before his hand leaned out of the gloom and beckoned Saitama after him. Saitama cleared the low wall, and grabbed at a handle on the back of the painting-door to close it after him. Mumen stood a few paces ahead of him, just a dark shadow before he whispered,” Starlight.”

From his palm crawled a butterfly made entirely of wispy light. It fluttered in his palm, emitting an eerie bluish light.

Saitama was in awe, but Mumen smiled,” This is just a parlor trick compared to what most can do. Lord Genos can light the entire entryway. We'll just have to manage.”

The hunter licked his lips,” Isn't this in the West Wing?”

“It's under it, sera.”

“You're sneaky.”

Mumen grinned,” Don't follow my example. Only come here when I accompany you or I'm afraid you might get lost in the labyrinth.”

Saitama laughed,” All you need is string right? Or what was it? You keep your hand on the right side?”

“It's a magic labyrinth, sera. If Lord Genos so wishes it, or even Geryuganshoop, you would walk the same ten paces eighteen different, hopeless ways and still never see a new spot.”

Saitama swallowed hard. He wasn't good at puzzles _or_ magic.

He followed Mumen Riderson into the awaiting dark, never more unsure of what awaited him.


	5. Dazzling

Mumen was mumbling to himself ahead of Saitama, and it was only when he walked closer, that he realized that Mumen was arguing with himself?!

Had he been doing that for the whole...half hour? That they had been here walking?

“How is he to know what he's up against? Huh? Do you really have that authority? Is that so? Oh. Really. Hm, maybe Lord Genos would-It's not a trump card if you're doing something you should not. You have six more paces before I turn around and-do you believe that he would not notice I was gone?”

“Are you talking to yourself! Dude!”

“I will handle this Mister Saitama!” Mumen said determinedly, then,” If the door way does not appear within three paces, I shall be very cross with you.”

“One.”

Saitama just hangs back and watches Mumen get increasingly tense as he takes a step. His face is swathed in the weak, blue faerie light. The shadows settle deeply into his frown as he drawls out,” Two.”

The hunter is unprepared for the sudden assault of bright, white light. He drops, unsheathing his knife from his boot and readies it as colors dance behind his shut lids. He opens them as quickly as he can and falls back, knife clattering across white stone. Mumen is glittering and casting light from his metal, looking almost like a statue, if not for the way he adjusts the lenses on his face,” Thank you. I'm glad you can see reason.”

A voice shrieks ahead of them and Saitama can not believe what he sees. He has not seen an octopus since leaving The Eastern Isles. It's similar to an octopus with a gelatinous blue-white body, but the texture of it swirls and shifts like silt in water. The eyes and mouth are three holes in its face that give window the bright light within it. The creature is...Saitama forgets the words, but its magic. It's raw magic that has taken shape and it is lighting the white stone cavern they are in from over a dark expanse of water.

It shrieks at Mumen,” You've brought an outsider to our most sacred of places! Have you gone mad?! King Genos may not be displeased with such an action but I-!”

“This is right.” Mumen says boldly,” He found Miss Psykos's key. He can come and go as he pleases as dictated by our monarch, but actually has the ability to do so because he is bound by no magical laws. He is free, in every sense of the word and yet he still chooses to be here to help.”

The thing swirls its legs agitatedly,” What are you saying? Magical law-”

“The curse shuts the doors at noon. Mister Saitama ripped the door from its hinges. I saw it with mine own eyes.”

Mumen folds his arms, stance wide in challenge and the thing rubs at the slope of its neck, maybe its jaw,” Stranger, is this true?”

Saitama grabs up his blade and sheathes it to stand,” Uh...yeah? What of it?”

The creature's eyes go wide,” What is your name.”

“Saitama.”

Its eyes narrow,” And your crest to bear? Your family name?”

Saitama shrugs, used to such queries,” None to speak of. I'm just a...monster hunter for fun.”

The mouth light stretches to the shape of a melon slice and is just as wide,” A bald, bastard nobody.”

“YOU'RE BALD TOO! WHAT'S THAT GOTTA DO WITH IT ANYWAY HUH?!”

He should give the guy a good boxing, magic or not, but Mumen steps in front of him,” How dare you, Geryuganshoop.”

The thing curls over its name like a dead spider,” That is WIZARD Geryuganshoop!”

Mumen tuts,” Mage.”

As the octopus splutters, Saitama is once again awed by the cave they are in. It is vast, seeming to stretch as big as the Beast's castle and is lined with geometric veins of gold throughout the white stone. Great white slabs encircle a great lake over which Geryuganshoop floats. He and Mumen are at the very edge of the room. Looking at the placements of the white slabs, and patterning, this place was unnatural. He felt a stirring in his gut as he looked on it all. It rose every hair on his body to attention.

Magic, and Great Magic at that.

“Where are we Mumen? And why do you guys have a talking octopus guarding it?”

The creature screeches, but Mumen turns grimly to explain,” This is the Tomb of the Gilded. Normally this is where the past rulers are laid to rest, but...there were so many bodies and we were unsure if they would wake so we store them here. We were hoping that the energy of the Endless Wellspring would revive them, but to no avail, sera. Geryuganshoop, please show him.”

The octopus's eyes narrow with disdain,” Since Mumen has failed to introduce me as is proper, I must do so myself! I am Geryuganshoop! In trying to lift our curse I have ripped my soul from myself and with great skill managed to cheat death and gain new form as-!”

“A wraith.” Mumen sighed,” Lord Genos only barely saved him, but he needs to stay close to the Wellspring in order to retain his form.”

“I am a wizard now! My power has increased exponentially and now, I am the most powerful telekinetic-”

Saitama yawned, “So where are you guys keeping the bodies?”

Mumen turns to the wraith,” If you would be so kind, Greyuganshoop.”

Grumbling, its limbs curl like smoke around its face and Saitama's ears ring like they always do when someone casts a spell. It felt like wind brushing against your very being, with no trace in the air or on your skin. The magic washed over his thoughts like a sigh as it was cast over the room. He was sure that Geryuganshoop had cast the spell over the room in particular.

The slabs melted, sliding down to reveal several metal bodies laying in rings like dolls around the lake.

Saitama rubbed his hands together before he marched forward,” Well Mumen Riderson, let's get to work!”

“M-me?! What can I do? I'm...I'm not very gifted in a magic sense or-”

Saitama smiled at him as best as he could,” Hold this will you?”

“Sera?” the copper man squeaked, but Saitama handed him the bag and pointed to a side pouch.

“ Follow me around and we'll try 'em. The keys are in there and we can stop when you want to.”

Riderson's answer exploded out of him like the sudden, black tears that began to seep from the gap where his lenses and face met,” I WILL DO WHATEVER I CAN TO HELP! Thank you Mister Saitama, Thank-”

“You can thank me if I can actually do something alright? Now j-just stop that!” he wasn't so good with the whole crying thing, weird oil tears or not, and went through the rows until his eyes settled on the fourth person who he approached. Mumen trailed behind, snuffling quietly as his metal hands scraped his face in an attempt to wipe it clean.

Saitama bit his tongue when he saw that the man had only successfully smeared it from his cheeks all the way across the bridge of his nose to the other ear. Sighing, he mumbled,” You kinda just wiped it everywhere dude, let me help.”

He muffled the man's protests by vigorously buffing his face with his cape before turning back around to face his first trial,” Hand me a key.”

“Which one?”

“Any.”

While Mumen rummaged around, the hunter examined the man laying on the table. He was made of polished wood and iron. The iron largely made up his joints and framed the glass window in his chest that revealed the unmoving cogs on the inside. Mumen handed him a dark iron key that was the same color as his lock and the hunter didn't even have to touch it to know it was wrong.

“Hand me the other one.”

“I-I'm sorry? I don't understand.”

Saitama gripped the bridge of his nose with an impatient sigh,” Yes you do. Is that the key you _wanted_ to hand over? Or the one you thought you _should_ hand over? Hand me the other one.”

Mumen gasped when the little silver key fit and turned, but Saitama had known it would work as soon as he held it.

Eventually they ran out of keys and Mumen babbled excitedly,” Does this mean they can be saved!? Mister Saitama you are-this-THANK YOU! Thank you, thank you, _thank you_!”

“Who are you?” they turned at the reedy voice of Geryuganshoop. Saitama can't focus on what he had been feeling but that lightness remains, despite the way it starts to dull with his change in focus.

“Eh?” Saitama says smartly, then” I already told you.”

The wraith's eyes narrow,” Who are you who is wise to the ways of magic? Who are you to break the binding of their cogs so easily? Some incubus's bastard son? Some sage? Some hermit?”

“My answer's gonna be the same every time. Are we _done_ here?”

Geryuganshoop's voice drops low echoing within the confines of his head and he nearly jumps,” So be it Nobody, Lord of Nothing.”

Saitama just rolls his shoulders, but it doesn't rid him of the feeling that-

Ah, Mumen is staring at him intently. Before he can ask, the regent is speaking,” I am curious too, sera...” he licks his lips, metal tongue scraping with an unpleasant, metal groan,” From where do you hail?”

He feels that he shouldn't lie to Mumen after the guy put so much faith in him and trusted him, but he could not bring himself to speak. The hunter shook his head,” What matters is what I do, not where I am from.”

The regent ducked his head, tone soft,” Of course, sera. The past of who you were is sometimes...a heavy burden to bear. I myself was...weak. In my home country I wanted to do good. Protect my people, but I was a squire. I found out I always would be...and so I decided to enact justice myself. It was wrong of me to act on my own passing judgment over others and I got caught because I wasn't strong enough to uphold my...lofty aspirations. My ideals...My name was taken from me and I was cast out. Now I am Mumen. License-less. Title-less. A nobody.”

Saitama didn't know what to say, but the regent continued,” The late queen heard of my plight. She sought me out, Genos's mother did, and the king gave me a second chance. I was distantly related to them and still...Saitama.”

Mumen looked at him, lenses reflecting so much light it was blinding and scattered spots across his vision,” You are strong enough to do what is right and you do it.”

Saitama's mouth wrenched into a frown,” That isn't it, it's just common decency i'n't it?”

Mumen laughed until his shoulders shook and oil seeped out from his eyes,” Yeah. Let us go from this place. We must celebrate! You, my friend, shall eat like a king after I tell Lord Genos-”

“Don't be so excited! They still haven't woken!” Geryuganshoop huffs.

“Don't tell him.” Saitama says and suddenly he feels the heft of their gaze on his bald head and rubs the back of his neck with a gloved hand.

Mumen's mouth drops open with an incredulous,” Why?”

“He's right. They haven't woken up. There are still some without keys and I don't want to get anyone's hopes up.”

“Mister Saitama, hope is all we have left.”

Before he can come up with an answer, Geryganshoop is coughing to get their attention,” He-HEM!”

“Ghosts can cough?!” Saitama laughs and the octopus grimaces.

“WIZARD! A-anyhow lord regent it is nearing midnight!”

Mumen's hands go to his hair and if it weren't metal, Saitama is sure he'd be clutching it,” HOW LONG DID YOU MAKE US WALK IN THERE!?”

Geryuganshoop grins,” A magic novice should not threaten a master!”

Mumen wrings his hands frantically,” I'm sorry alright?! We must go!”

“You must.” the octopus says smugly and when Saitama opens his eyes from blinking, he's sure he's gone blind.

They're in complete darkness and Mumen curses before mumbling,” _Illuminate._ ”

As soon as the butterfly takes off so does Mumen, his legs clanging and echoing like pots and pans as he races down the hallway with Saitama in tow. Mumen hurriedly fumbles through the doorway and sounds on the verge of panic as he bids Saitama farewell. The copper man stumbles up the stairs toward the East Wing rooms and disappears behind a door.

“Seems he can't stand your company.”

Saitama rolls his eyes. He saw Sonic coming and figured Mumen was in too much of a panic to notice him.

“What were you going to show me?”

Instead of answering, Sonic is gone and then Saitama follows the flicker of movement to catch him disappearing behind the same door Mumen went in. In an instant, Saitama is on his heels. Just when he catches sight of Sonic he will disappear behind the corner of a hallway, push into a doorway and skitter across moonlit rooms. He's a shadow in the dark, but Saitama never loses sight of him. It's when they head to the grander rooms that the clock begins to chime and Sonic turns with his mask off to say,” Eavesdrop, do not be seen.” before he slips behind a door.

Saitama approaches the crack and puts a hand to his mouth to muffle his surprise.

Mumen jumps up from the large bed to scramble over to Sonic,” Hurry!”

With a flourish, Sonic has the copper key in hand and the other presses Mumen to him by the small of his back. Mumen's mouth drops open and Sonic is pressing the key to the roof of his mouth. He presses closer as he turns it. The clock chimes and Saitama is scowling. Was this why Sonic kept his key? To see him frantically rushing to him? To toy with his life and have it rest in the palm of his hand?

The clock chimes and Sonic hands Mumen the small copper key.

What?

“Quickly!” Mumen hisses and Sonic is languidly pulling up a plate on his chest over his heart. With the same key, Mumen slots it in place and almost violently turns it as Sonic leans against him heavily, face in his neck.

The last chime goes off and Sonic shivers, winding his arms around Mumen tighter who scolds shakily,” You cut close again.”

“T'was you as usual. I went looking for you.”

Mumen's face twists with guilt,” You did? I'm sorry.”

“You're only sorry I didn't die.”

Mumen's voice is dark,” You're vile. I would never wish such a thing.”

Sonic laughs wickedly as Mumen tries to disentangle himself, but Sonic holds fast,” Only because we share the same key and if such a thing were to happen, the same fate. How fitting.”

Mumen tries in earnest to escape,” No matter what you say, we do _not_ share the same fate! I'm not like you so unhand me!”

It's taking Saitama everything he has to refrain from busting into the room and prying off Sonic himself. Mumen is a decent person, the exact opposite of Sonic and he's not convinced that this arrangement isn't entirely in Sonic's favor somehow.

Sonic lets go and Mumen yelps as he's propelled by his own force into the ground with a loud thud.

Sonic saunters over, and Saitama has to shift to keep watching. He sees Mumen glaring at Sonic as he tries to stand, but the dark man steps on his chest. Something in his gut tells him not yet, so the hunter waits.

Sonic plucks the small, copper key from his chest and replaces the plate over the port with a sneer,” You thought so once and now you go back on your word and call me a monster. I stole this because you were so busy playing house you nearly killed us you idiot!”

Mumen wilts,” I...I know.”

Sonic snickers and digs his heel under a plate on Mumen's stomach through his shirt,” How many times must I put you there before you know your place?”

Mumen gives up on propping himself up with his arms and uses his hands instead to try and remove Sonic's foot,” I would rather die than accept such a fate.”

Sonic shrinks back, visibly and steps away. With a flourish, the key is gone and he mutters,” I should have never told you the truth of it...No. Actually...It's good I know who you are. Traitor.”

Mumen winces, then stands angrily,” Murderer.”

Sonic's coin eyes spin wildly in his face and he grins mirthlessly. The pit of Saitama's stomach drops with Sonic's icy voice,” So be it.”

Mumen sighs tiredly,” Just...do it. Please.”

Saitama is bewildered. He doesn't understand what has happened at all beyond the fact that he could do nothing to help Mumen without killing Sonic or putting him at risk of dying.

Sonic stiffly puts on his mask and then steps forward and Saitama feels ill as Mumen takes his hand. The hunter has a bad feeling that is combating with the fact he is transfixed on the scene before him.

Sonic climbs onto the bed and Mumen follows shamefaced. His head hangs and he refuses to look at Sonic even as the other man arranges his limbs with his free hand and settles against his side with a sigh,” Ask me.”

Mumen's brow is knit and his teeth are clenched, but Sonic lays his head against his chest.

Saitama waits with him before Mumen says quietly,” I am weary. Will you put me to sleep?”

Sonic hums, but doesn't move,” You shouldn't make it seem like it's my intention to. Ask me properly and don't feel guilty about it. You'll go mad if the cogs of your restless mind turn endlessly. You nearly drove yourself mad the first year. Ask me.”

Mumen turns his face away from the man at his side, tears seeping from the gaps beneath his lenses and dripping onto the already splotched with black sheets,” No one else gets to sleep.”

Sonic snickers,” Superstitious lot. I promise I won't live in your shadow and doppelganger you, now get on with it.”

Mumen huffs a weak laugh and asks shakily,” Son of a demon, brother to death, will you take me for a moment?”

Saitama is sure Sonic is mirroring the wide grin of his mask,” _Yes._ ”

Sonic sits up and Saitama feels as if he is in a dream. Time seems to drag endlessly in the moment Sonic takes off his mask and leans down. Sonic splays his hand and drags two fingers over Mumen's eyes to shut them before plucking the coins of his eyes from his head.

Saitama watches in horror as the man puts a coin over each eye and presses his lips to his forehead,” _Sleep. Sleep and if you wake in the Kingdom of the hereafter and dine with Death, I shall ferry you._ ”

Sonic lifts his head. Saitama can see Death in the black pits of his empty sockets and feels like they are growing, deepening in their shadow. Sonic's grin splits his face, the porcelain of it looking like bone in the weak faerie light of the room.

“Do you wish for Death to take you, Saitama?”

He stumbles back from the door to Sonic's cackle and he knows him for what he is.

A warlock. The son of an incubus and an unfortunate woman. A bringer of sleep and a keeper of secrets.

He's a goddamn Watcher for Death and he's watching over the whole castle!

A sick dread takes Saitama and he runs. Why was Mumen hiding such a creature's true nature? Did everyone know about it? What was even going on, for a watcher to be sent?

Did this mean Sonic would try and stop him?

Was the situation hopeless?

Who had enough power to call upon Death Himself and strike a bargain?

If he was truly able to break the curse, he knew the price to pay and it weighed heavily in him. He felt much like an automaton himself, his limbs filling with lead and moving stiffly. 

It frightened him how quickly he accepted it. At the expense of his life, he could save them, he was sure...but it didn't seem heroic at all. His quiet acceptance didn't feel like bravery, it just felt worn thin and so, so tired. Maybe people were right about him in that he was more stupid than courageous.

He reached his chambers quickly and realized that Mumen's room was not too far from his own. His eyes felt heavy, his head filled with cotton and full of disjointed thoughts that dropped like stones into his gut. He was only able to remove his armor because it was habit. He flopped onto the bed and dropped almost immediately into sleep.

Saitama was grateful he did not dream when he woke, but the reason he woke had him readying his fists. Sonic stood at the foot of his bed, grinning.

“Good morning, _hero_.”

“What do you want?” Seeing that Sonic wasn't going to threaten him, he yawned and stretched.

The dark man tutted, and Saitama hated that the habit was not unlike Riderson's, reminding him of the night before,” Did you not enjoy my little show?”

“Get on with it and stop wasting my time.”

Sonic snickers and rounds Saitama's bed to sit almost primly,” Lord Genos does not have a key.”

What.

“You guys are all clockwork! How is he still alive?!”

Sonic pulls himself onto the bed,” The High Wizard Kuseno changed the conditions of the spell at great cost to himself. He had to leave Genos's side lest he succumb to the spell and become an automaton himself.”

“So...”

Sonic huffs impatiently, drawing forward and Saitama leans away from him as he hisses,” He's different than us you imbecile! Even I have been included in the number of enchanted people and I carry Death's favor...or did. Our problem is connected to Genos and marked to his time, but the problems are entirely different.”

“Just spit it out! What do you mean?”

Sonic suddenly advances on the hunter with a snarl, leaning over him completely and too close,” Leave Mumen be, and focus on Genos!”

“He's always hiding away!” Saitama backpedals quickly,” Back off!”

Undeterred, Sonic follows,” Lately he has sought you out when before we would not see him for months. The air of the castle has changed! This is progress.”

Saitama nears the edge of the bed and attempts to scramble away, but Sonic grabs the front of his shirt and he must hold his forearm to avoid toppling off.

“Heed my words hero, and you cannot fail-”

“MISTER SAITAMA! Sonic? Oh-OH! Excuse me!” Mumen ducks his head and nearly slams the door as he runs off and Sonic shoves Saitama from the bed with a sigh.

“Dude!”

“Shut it!” Sonic snaps,” He was going to tell you Genos missed you both at dinner and is very cross. You should say you went out, to avoid turning into one of us. I'll make sure Riderson says the same.”

Sonic rushes out the door and Saitama is left to disentangle himself from his sheets on the floor. He almost considers just laying there and going back to sleep, but there's a rapid knock on his door and giggling followed by shushing and hissing.

The hunter groans.

Children.

Once he's free, he trips and almost slams his face into the wall before he puts his arms out. He blearily opens the door,” Can I help you?”

The smaller children run shrieking with surprise and part laughter, but the teenager remains,” H'lo.”

It's the kid with the broken panel on his arm. His eyes are a bright yellow, his hair white-gold and split into two tufts that look like large horns. He's taller than Saitama, gangly and lean with broad shoulders and wiry arms. His hands are in the pockets of long, white pants and Saitama can tell by his smug face he is up to no good. The boy sneers,” I don't believe your stories.”

“Okay.” Saitama says and waits.

The teen gnashes his teeth together and visibly bristles,” Y'gonna prove me wrong!?”

“No? Is that all?”

The boy sneers,“You talk big but you're actually a bald loser! No better than a goddamn bard except you're not even entertaining!”

He nearly crushed the handle of the door and felt his eye twitch,” What?!”

The teen jabs him in the chest with a pointed finger,” I bet I could kick your ass easy. You call yourself a monster hunter?! Well here I am, the _Hero Hunter_!”

“What's the point of a Hero Hunter? Shouldn't you be doing chores or something, kid?”

Garou cocks his head to the side, eyes narrowed,” Yeah. My first chore is to _wipe the floor with you, hero_!”

Garou brings the side of his palm down against Saitama's shoulder so hard, the floorboards break beneath his feet and leave him shin deep under them.

Anger burns through his gut as he says evenly,” Are you trying to get me thrown out?!”

He gives the boy a taste of his own medicine, copying his move with such force that he ends up sprawled on his back, doll eyes spinning wildly. The children cheer and Saitama feels like a headache coming on even though he knows full well he hasn't had one in years.

“Don't bug me first thing in the morning.”

“It's the afternoon, idiot.” the kid manages to snark but when he tries to sit up, he makes a gagging sound and lays back down.

Saitama steps out of the floor and goes to his room. What is with the teenagers in this castle? It's like they all want to fight him!

He bolts his door and hears Garou cursing as he slams against it.

“IF YOU BREAK MY DOOR-”

Garou mutters to himself and suddenly there is metal scraping at the lock and Saitama really, really doesn't want to fight some hot-headed kid. Quickly, Saitama cleans his teeth and throws everything quickly into his pack. He needs to get out.

It's when he is tying his sheets to the small balcony in an attempt to escape to the floor below, that he hears the Beast's voice. His stomach flutters nervously. He needs to convince Genos to tell him more about the curse, but hasn't given much thought as to what he should say. He feels like he's planning to swindle him somehow and his palms begin to sweat.

“Garou? Explain yourself.”

“I'm going to fight him and win.”

The beast scoffs, an ugly sound in his throat before he says smugly,” Surely you jest, _boy_. Master is-”

Garou snarls,” Unskilled and untrained. I can beat him easy.”

Genos's voice drops low, deadly and Saitama's heart stops,” I shall weld your mouth shut so you may never speak such nonsense in my presence-”

“ENOUGH!” Saitama throws the door open so hard it knocks against the wall. His heart is pounding so forcefully, he feels jittery and panicked. His voice thunders over the young men and they go still as statues. Genos has hold of one of Garou's fists and the other has a fistful of Genos's black shirt. Their eyes, gold and yellow, both land on him and he coughs. He coughs again, trying to clear his suddenly dry throat,” Stop being stupid. Is this what you use your power for? Petty squabbles and pissing contests?”

Garou makes a dismissive “tch!” before shoving the shamefaced king away. The hero hunter shoves his hands in his pockets sneering,” You aren't worth the damn trouble anyway.”

Rolling his eyes, Saitama mutters,” So you say now that you're beat.”

Genos steps forward and bows his head suddenly,” I'm sorry master!”

“Huh!? S-Stop with the Master thing already!”

Genos straightens his back with a quiet,” Yes teacher...”

Saitama pinches the bridge of his nose and groans,” I told you once before, but you have selective hearing so pay attention: I have nothing to teach! I'm just a regular guy!”

Genos smiles wryly, eyes closed as he shakes his head,” Would you call a miracle, ordinary? Would you call a rose a weed? A typhoon a light drizzle? You speak so lowly of yourself master only because you have seen such wondrous things your view of the world has...warped. You hold everything to such a high standard it is no wonder you are always expecting more of yourself! To change the world one must change oneself first! This is truly a maxim that I have taken to heart from your teachings.”

Saitama couldn't look at him. This kid kept raising the pedestal he put him on! When Saitama finally had to leave it, he would have such a long way to fall. His face heated uncomfortably and he tugged at the collar of his armor, only to realize he was in just a shirt and breeches.

“I'M STILL IN MY UNDERWEAR!”

Gold lips parted around black fangs in a toothy grin,” I am glad you can bear yourself to me without enchanted armor. Perhaps you may fight without it and show me the basics?”

“D-don't say odd things! My armor doesn't even do anything, I just can't walk around naked!”

The king's smile withers,” It _is_ enchanted. I know this. You were unscathed last time we fought even though you were thrown to the ground with such force that-”

“That would have happened with or without the armor, kid. I...I don't get hurt anymore.”

Genos's eyes went wide and for a moment, Saitama could see how young he was.

“Impossible.”

“It's true. Also I don't even _have_ proper clothes. I always wear my armor!”

“This is unacceptable.” Genos spun on his heel and stalked away, spaded tail lashing and battering the corner to splinter the wood of the wall as he rounded it.

Saitama had a bad feeling. He retrieved his greaves from his room and ran after the king as he laced them up,” What are you up to?! Genos!”

As he rounded the second corner, he nearly ran into the king, who appeared to be returning.

“Be still Master Saitama, this will take but a moment. Arms up.”

Between long, clawed talons was a tape measure. Genos was serious and urged Saitama to lift his arms, wrapping the marked strip around his chest and humming, then taking another measurement.

“Why are you-”

“Please be patient master. I would have my cousin do this but...I cannot find him.”

“WHAT!?”

“My hearing is excellent, teacher, there is no need to shout.”

Genos wound the strip around his bicep with a soft,” Flex please. I don't want the fabric to tear...”

Saitama was dizzy with how much blood rushed to his face. He felt like a school boy getting outfitted for-

“ARE YOU MEASURING ME FOR AN OUTFIT!?”

Genos blinked slowly in obvious, mild exasperation, before a playful grin overtook his mouth,” Yes.”

Saitama buried his face in his hands,” I don't need it.”

Genos's shoulders drooped,” Consider it a token...” the young man ducked his head, tugging his black hood low over his face,” A token of my favor.”

“I told you to stop saying things like that,” the hunter griped before,” You said Mumen was missing?!”

“Yes. I am sure he is around here somewhere, but he is not answering my summons. It is quite odd.” Genos wrapped the marked tape around Saitama's waist and he couldn't suppress a shiver at the cold, metal hands through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Somehow, he was still sweating,” Your hands are cold.”

“I apologize.”

Genos measured the length of his legs last, sitting on his haunches to do so and Saitama belatedly realized that this was his chance to really speak to the kid. He resolved to say the first thing that came to mind.

“You're really weird.”

Damn. He pursed his mouth, but Genos was undeterred from his task,” How so teacher?”

He began to rock on his heels before Genos grabbed his leg to still him,” Uh, you decided I was your teacher because I ripped a door off its hinges? That's a little odd. It wasn't that amazing! That's just strength training at work-”

Genos stood suddenly, ripping his hood from his head with a frustrated snarl,” That was ancient magic you ripped through! It was a multi-layered binding spell that was set and woven for six years. Because of that time frame, you would need an incredible amount of magic to even break the first layer of enchantment. The magic equivalent of at least _thirteen_ high wizards of which there are only four in the whole, wide world or the Hero Blast, may He find his way to us.”

Saitama grinned widely,” You believe He will return too!?”

The king's shoulders drooped and his face drooped with them into a hideous pout,” You say that I have selective hearing, but that's the pot calling the kettle black teacher...”

Waving him off, Saitama said carelessly,” Like teacher like stud-NO! I didn't mean-”

Genos leaned over him, and Saitama tried to lean back, but hit the wall behind him. The Beast grinned fiercely” Of course, Master Saitama. Follow me. We shall have you outfitted by dinner.”

Sighing, Saitama couldn't refuse and trailed after him.

“Shouldn't you be more worried about Mumen?”

“He knows how to take care of himself, Master. He's probably taking a day off.”

“That guy? I don't think so. I just saw him this morning!”

Genos rolls his shoulders,” Hm. Perhaps he is avoiding me. I was quite angry to see that he let you go hungry yesterday. You both were in the crypts for some time.”

With those words it feels as if the hunter's stomach has been scoured,” I didn't go hungry! Y-you know about that huh?”

Genos stops suddenly and Saitama really does run into him, unbalancing the Beast before his tail lashes out and corrects it before he falls. His voice is a low rumble,” Was it a secret? That place in particular is attuned to the Gilded. Mumen should have known that I would know immediately.”

“Ah,” Saitama licks his lips. He doesn't know now, if he can lie about leaving the castle. What would be the point if Genos could see him? He had never been a convincing liar,” What are the Gilded? People keep saying that.”

Genos grins, eyes gleaming,” It is my family line. The chosen rulers are always born blonde.”

“Ah, is that a magic thing?”

“Yes, Master.”

Saitama chuckles,” Everything is a magic thing around here.”

Genos's eyes widen,” Are you not a wizard, master?”

“Huh!? I'm not even that old!”

Genos is very obviously staring at his bald head and Saitama grinds his teeth together loudly before snapping,” My eyes are down here!”

Genos's voice is so quiet, Saitama has to lean in to hear him,” What school of magics do you know?”

“Uh, I'm not really good at it, it takes too much focus. I'd rather fight by hitting things. I can cast a simple fire spell! Er-well some of the time.”

Genos scowls,” Do not lie to me.”

“I'm not!”

“You're the seventh son of a seventh son.”

“Huh? No I was actually the second and last kid and my dad was an only child...”

He can see Genos's brow furrow,” You have some artifact?”

“Nope.”

Genos starts walking again, mumbling before,” You were born to a warlock or witch?”

Saitama scoffs,” They're a sterile lot. The children of succubi don't make family lines.”

“I...didn't know that.”

“Yep.”

“You are from a powerful family line?”

Saitama laughs,” My town was a small mining kingdom. Our export was quartz.”

“Quartz?! Then you come from a line of mages? Or a mage town?”

Saitama waved him off,” No. We were small because there was a severe lack of magic blood. That's why we exported the quartz. High Wizard Agoni of the East was our biggest buyer.”

“Then...you are from Zedread.”

A strangled sound came from Saitama as Genos hit the nail on the head,” Uh, y-yeah. You've heard of it?”

Genos hummed,” In passing perhaps. Tell me about it if you would, teacher.”

“There's nothing much to tell.” He feels his gut wrench.

“Shall I tell you then?” Genos said,” It's a ghost town now. The royal family and everyone slipped into obscurity once the mines went dry.”

Saitama doesn't know whether to laugh or say nothing at all. Is that what everyone thinks happened? It's not that it hurts anymore to speak about it. Nothing does anymore, but he's afraid that speaking about it will break the already tumultuous peace he has built with his hands. He's wary of the bad luck he brings wherever he goes. He's wary of the mark of the Hook on his hand and what it may bring.

He's suddenly more aware of his state of dress. He's in a shirt, breeches and greaves and boots, but his gloves are missing. He tries to dull his mounting panic by reminding himself that he is probably the only one in the whole world who can notice such a mark.

Genos starts talking again, so ready to fill the silence that Saitama sort of marvels that he hasn't run out of things to say,” The odd thing is how suddenly it happened. It was like the king hadn't planned for it, but he was notoriously meticulous.”

Saitama swallows nervously.

“It doesn't make sense.”

After a pause, Genos goes on,” People can speculate all they want, and as a wizard's apprentice I have as well, but when I traveled through there it seems that we may never know what happened.”

Saitama spluttered,” You were there?”

Genos nods,” It was some time ago, teacher. It was so unusual I thought it might be the work of the Mad Wizard. Quartz is a great conduit for accumulating large amounts of power over short periods of time. I was hoping to find some myself but all of it was gone without a trace...Teacher...do you know anything?”

Saitama ducks his head, suddenly aware of Genos's eyes on him and rubs at the back of his neck,” I...I was long gone by then. I came of age and left as soon as I could.”

He hoped his voice hadn't betrayed him.

“Yes. That's probably...for the best. I never would have met teacher had he stayed so this is good,” Genos says this softly and Saitama is trying to quell the punch of his heart. He feels like he has dug himself a hole that he will never climb out of.

At times he can forget Genos's twisted features and hear the teenager he is. He has no idea why the kid puts him in such high esteem, why he twists his words so they carry some air of the grandeur, why Genos has this misguided faith.

“Weren't you angry with me not too long ago?”

Genos turns suddenly, bowing low and Saitama almost falls in an attempt to not crash into him again,” For that I am sorry! I cannot expect teacher to abide by the rules of common folk and dress codes when you have no need for such things. I have...reflected on my actions and am deeply sorry.”

Panicked, Saitama tries to pull him out of his bow,” H-hey quit bowing! It's fine!”

Genos smiles and despite the fangs and heavy brow of his demonic appearance, looks cheerful,” Teacher is kind.”

“Th-I'm not fishing for compliments, kid!”

“I know this.” Genos says with a gravelly chuckle and starts walking again with Saitama in tow.

“What I mean is...why did you want to be my disciple anyway? I'm just some guy that blew in from out of town...I mean I'm not smart. All I have are my fists really.”

Genos's voice is almost a growl and he shakes his head, hands clenched,” I must stop the Mad Wizard at any cost. I can't allow someone like that to-to leave behind such destruction unpunished. I will not rest until he is destroyed. This is my life's mission and teacher has surely crossed my path through some stroke of great luck. I must become strong, no matter the cost.”

“I must.” Genos spat and Saitama was in awe at the way Genos so easily shifted to passionate anger and realized he was probably always angry. He remembered Mumen's words.

_He has lost so much._

Saitama feels Genos's expectations try to settle on his shoulders, but he's sure the kid will figure out he's nothing special eventually. A stroke of luck? That notion is so ridiculous, Saitama wants to tell him. He glances at his left hand, and thinks that it was that hand that had ruined everything. He almost wants to tell Genos what happened that day. The listlessness that had overcome him and he had been willing to do anything to feel anything. He had tried hard to change himself and had only resolved that no matter where he went, he wasn't part of society.

He had nothing to contribute at all.

He might as well disappear, except he thought that wouldn't do any good either. He just did what he wanted, wandering around and punching things that disrupted the peace hoping that one of them could actually bring some fun back to fighting. He was a monster hunter for fun, but where had the fun gone?

Maybe he should get a hobby.

Ah, his wood carvings sucked though. Hadn't fighting been his hobby? Did people need to take on other hobbies to take a break from their other hobbies?

“Sometimes that helps. I am rather stuck on drawing ideas myself even though teacher is a wealth of inspiration, my etchings seem rather _un_ inspired and do you no justice at all,” Genos said thoughtfully.

“CRAP! I DIDN'T MEAN TO SAY THAT OUT LOUD!”

Genos laughed. It was a genuine, full sound that shook his shoulders and squinted his eyes. It was different from that awful strangled sound he had made days ago, and Saitama realized,” YOUR VOICE IS DIFFERENT!”

Genos blinked,” No?”

“It isn't? I could have sworn that...your voice was more...monster-y...before...”

“It sounds the same to me, teacher.”

Saitama flushes,” We have really got to work on you just calling me Saitama.”

“Saitama, we are here. My work room.”

Genos produces a small ring of keys and unlocks the white door. Saitama was so engrossed in their conversation he did not realize they had been walking down a grand hallway full of windows. He can't resist walking over and pulling the curtains back to let some sunlight in. He can see the glistening of the sun on the trees like the top of a great, green ocean. He sighs almost wistfully,” This place can get so gloomy, I don't understand why you-”

The king looks as stricken as he feels. The keys fall to the ground with a jangle as their eyes meet and Saitama swears he can feel the punch of that gaze as physically as if Genos had hit him.

How the hell does one hit another with their gaze alone?

The light has fallen on Genos, illuminating his gold, angular features beneath his hood. The gleam of the sun off of his metal softens the angles and he looks almost...regal.

It reminds Saitama of the stone gargoyles of his home kingdom and he feels strangely like he has come home.

The enchantment of Genos's gaze is broken as the boy scrambles to pick up the keys, a shaky breath leaving his mouth.

Saitama drops the curtain and again they are swathed in gloom.

“You...um...you wouldn't happen to be...I mean...this is going to sound weird but-”

“Yes?” the keys jangle loudly as Genos tries to find the key he's looking for only to drop it again.

It must be hard having metal claws for hands because there's no grip.

Their hands touch as they both go for the keys and Genos snatches his hand back as if Saitama has burned him when their hands brush. Saitama offers them and even without the sun to make his eyes that captivating molten gold, Saitama is...enchanted.

Must be.

“You didn't l-like switch eyes with Fubuki did you?” Saitama stammers.

“WHAT?!” Genos's jaw drops.

“I-I saw Sonic take his eyes out and I mean all of you have doll's eyes anyway so I mean, I know Gorgon eyes have that like 'freeze you in your steps' power so-I mean-Well did you or didn't you!” Saitama doesn't know why he sounds accusatory or why his voice cracks.

“Why would teacher think that?”

“Did you or didn't you?”

“No.”

Saitama scrambles for a reason,” You're related right? I mean you kinda look like a Gorgon from the ones-”

“Gorgons are women only.”

“I...didn't know that.”

“She isn't related to me. My mother,” Genos pauses, eyes softening,” was an adventurer and would commission maps from her after she mended her wing...They became steadfast friends so she is my godmother.”

“I see...”

“You met with Fubuki?”

“Yes. Um, wh-why did you take her eyes? That's kind of extreme dude!”

Genos's eyes narrow,” I see.”

“Well she doesn't! That's-can't you guys talk it out?”

Genos's eyes flicker over Saitama before he leans close and the hunter nearly yelps. Genos brings himself to his full height, tail lashing,” You joined her group.”

“NO WAY! Guild dues are a scam! Who the hell _pays_ their employer?!”

“Then why are you helping her?”

“Be-Because it's the right thing to do? Y'see I-”

Before Saitama could tell Genos about Tatsumaki, the map, and his reasoning, Genos let loose an inhuman roar, then blinked suddenly, pressing against the door and disappearing behind it,” GO AWAY!”

“Genos?!”

“Leave me be,”came the muffled response and an awful snuffling started, then stopped just as suddenly.

“Genos, c'mon man, I-”

“LEAVE ME BE!”

Saitama jumped at the sound of splintering wood and the loud sound of something tearing. Heart in his throat, he realized that this was childish! It made no sense!

With an aggravated roll of his shoulders, Saitama sighed and decided to seek Mumen out. Maybe he could make sense of this since he had known Genos longer.

“What a temper...” Saitama muttered lowly,” Everyone is so prone to hysterics.”

Maybe that was a part of the curse, he mused but somehow his chest felt tight. He felt like his throat was closing no matter how many times he swallowed.

Maybe it was getting to him too.

Must be.


	6. Shadowed

Saitama walks around the castle aimlessly for hours and the whole place is eerily silent and devoid of people.

He abandons his task after he rounds the foyer for the third time and decides he needs to get some air. For some reason every curtain in the place is drawn shut and he feels that the air he's breathing has gone stale.

Saitama reaches the door, has to wrench it open, and suddenly he senses someone behind him. Sonic rushes past, faster than a blink and is at the edge of the woods.

“What are you doing?” Saitama calls, but the warlock either doesn't hear him, or more likely, will not answer. Shrugging, Saitama examines his surroundings.

The white roses are mere impressions of buds, tucked tightly into themselves. Overall, the plants are healthy, just growing wild. That is what he thinks until he notices that the plants around the edges and near the walkways are dying. Perhaps this is a disease? Saitama draws his knife. He slowly makes his way across the pavement, cutting loose stem after stem until he reaches the center. As he closes in on the wild, twisting thicket of thorns and brambles, he manages to pull weeds loose and toss them onto the pavement, creating a large mound. The hunter is sure to keep the unwanted flora away from the cuts he's taken from the roses. For a moment, he examines the branches closely, searching for outward growing buds and how best to prune back the plant. Wanting to leave the plant as open as possible, he decides on more severe pruning before he cuts right above outward facing buds. He angles his knife cuts so that the rain, if it should fall, will roll away from the young flowers. By the time he is finished, the plant is spindly, sparse and all the better for it. The new growths will surely grow a stronger, better looking rose bush.

It's when he is halfway through the garden, that Sonic approaches him. He watches him from the edge of the garden for long enough that Saitama prunes two more, then sets to work at the opposite end. The sun had broke down across the tops of trees and left them in dusk, before they met in the middle and Sonic said gruffly,” You can not return, but you'll let me in...won't you?”

Saitama straightens up, sheathing his knife and cracking his knuckles,” O' course, but what do you mean?”

Sonic snorts and enunciates every syllable so slowly Saitama wants to throttle him,” You can't be in there. You'll turn to metal.”

“Ah...is...is it that bad? I intend to break the curse anyway s-”

He has to dodge Sonic, who has reached for his throat and suddenly they are both running. Sonic's face is livid, all sharp angles in his anger as the silver coin of his eyes spin wildly. The warlock snarls and splutters in frustration, but can't seem to say much else.

“Can you stop?”

Sonic is striking blindly and Saitama realizes the man isn't all there. His eyes are wild, aimless as they lock onto him, seeing through him. He darts behind him, and brings his hand down at the man's back and he's thrown sprawled across the dirt.

He lays there for some time before Saitama walks over,” Hey. Are you-?”

“How dare you say something like that to me. I'll kill you!” He lifts his face, holding it together, and Saitama winces as pieces of it fall loose. A spiderweb of cracks split the surface of the procelain with the bloom of it high on his cheek to reveal the black metal and ebony structures beneath. He can see the cogs spin wildly at Sonic's jaw as he seethes at him,” We can not _feel_. We can not _sleep_. We can not _eat_. We live on a timer Saitama and you would-!”

“Magic doesn't work on me.”

Sonic's eyes narrow and he can see the way the pieces shift, spin, lift,” This is no ordinary magic you fool!”

He rolls his eyes,” Yeah, I get that.”

It hits him,” Were you meeting with Death? At the edge of the woods?”

Sonic's shoulders raise like hackles on a wild animal and the voice he uses is just as feral,” He does not just come at one's whimsy like some dog!”

Saitama is trying not to snicker at the word whimsy, but his amusement passes like water off a duck's back and he's scratching at the back of his neck,” Hey, can you get my pack, then?”

Sonic's cogs and eyes are mere blurs of color,” YOU DARE-”

“I'll let you in the castle? Can't you? I mean for you it would just be a second!”

“This is true. So it shall be.” The warlock strides over to the door and waits. Saitama takes a moment to inspect his armor for snags, but the leather and cape are flawless.

Sonic snickers,” Why bother checking? It's enchanted.”

“Yeah, but I dunno what with.”

Sonic tuts and strides forward, a black hand trailing his collar before Saitama flinches back. Sonic grins,” Wary of me, are you?”

Saitama just folds his arms and the other man steps around him to touch the cape and hums,” Tis a protective charm. The enchantment adapts to the need...useful. Priceless...The cape? The High Wizard's Garb. It is said to never wear, never tear, never yield to strength or fire and yet it has been cut for this? What a joke. Such gifts are wasted on you, mortal.”

Saitama can't argue, so he opens the door and Sonic darts inside without another word.

Even now, Kuseno was helping him. He had wondered why his cape had not burned, why Genos's fire had rolled off of him. Why Mumen's black tears had not stained it.

There was a rapid knocking, and Saitama opened the door, only for his pack to be thrown at him and all the contents spilled from it.

“You have dared to kill a King's Deer?” Sonic snickered,” Oh I wonder if that was the last one?”

“I am seriously going to punch you! What are you talking about! Did you-Hey! That's mine!”

Sonic held the rolled hide of the acidic animal he had hunted the other day with a few others and was twirling one of the horns around his fingers,” It is the Crown's, and you shall pay for your crime. _Poacher._ ”

Before he could speak, the door was slammed shut by magic and Saitama could hear the scrape of the bolt sliding shut.

He gathers his things to repack them and realizes that this might be his opportunity to try visiting the wizard. He takes a deep breath, and heads to the west. Saitama walks through the clearing he had made with his punch not too long ago. He feels a bit sorry that the trees have fallen in great swaths, but it makes his traveling easier and he gets much father than he must have last time he attempted to leave. He picks up any keys that catch his eye on his way and finds himself whistling.

After a long while, he reaches the edge of the destruction, and must step into the wood. Saitama wonders why he had been so afraid? Just as suddenly as he had stepped into the castle, the fear had dissipated. Did everyone experience that when they tried to leave?

If he walked and walked, would he end up at the castle again?

Daylight is weakening and with it, Saitama's composure. He starts to run. Trees whip by him, leaves rustle in his wake, and he sees the glittering of keys. His heart doesn't race, the forest is quiet, and he reaches the edge of the woods to see the black of the sky littered with stars and the great, full face of the moon.

He can see the curve of the bridge and the lights from the mushroom houses beyond and forgets himself as he rushes over. As abruptly as he ran, he stops at the foot of the bridge. His hair is raised on end as he takes that first step and somehow, time seems to lull in-between that and the next step so that he trips as the pace of his life picks up again.

He collapses onto the grass of the other side in relief.

Saitama has made it. No watchers, no Death, no maze. The castle and the strange happenings within it feel almost like a dream. From here he could just head to mountains to circumvent the woods entirely. He had wanted a fight after all. He looked up at the boundless sky and thought that somewhere out there was a challenge that could hold him in place. There was a place he couldn't drift, couldn't fade and wear. Even now, his relief was a distant thing, a ghost of what it could be, of what he remembered it to be.

Perhaps he was just grasping at straws trying to cling to the way things were. Perhaps this was the reality that would slip monotonously from his hands forever until the day he died.

Was that even living?

Saitama looks upon the yellow lights behind the curtains of windows and is reminded of molten gold eyes. Stomach tight, he turns. The light of the moon had left the trees gilt in silver. They were so different from the woods at home. They were eerily silent with only the whisper of the wind to fill it. He bit at his lip.

He must go back.

They had less than a year left. _He_ had less than a year left. He trudged back the way he came, feet dragging and scattering dead leaves as he kicked them up. His eyelids grew heavy, closing slowly over and over until he was tumbling through the weakening dark. Everything was a muted gray in the light of dawn breaking except for the castle. It lay there like a piece of the sun and Saitama stood in the destruction his punch had caused looking at it. He saw the dark, willowy shape of Sonic on the stair.

Was he waiting? Why was he there? He supposed it was true that the doors reopened at midnight.

Thoughts mussed and sluggishly rolling in his head he made his way to Sonic, standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the grand front door. Sonic was standing, holding the rolled leather in hand. He unwrapped what was in it and Saitama squinted at the silver mirror. He had forgotten about that. He remembered he had rolled it up in some leather he hadn't gotten around to selling. It usually lay at the bottom of his pack. He was honestly surprised it hadn't broke.

Then again, it was dwarven make, so he supposed it would be sturdy as the hands that crafted it.

“What would you take for this?”

“That? You can have it.” Saitama yawned around his words, rubbing at the tears that welled up from the force of it.

Sonic shook his head, mouth taut and words curdling like old milk as he reined in his obvious anger,” I can't. What. Do. You. Want.”

“I forgot I even had it! I won't miss it none, just let me by.”

Sonic stood his ground, holding the mirror carefully despite his blatant rage,” I am undead you fool! I can not _take_ I can not _give_ as freely as you would. A deal must be struck.”

“Undead?”

Sonic runs a hand over his face roughly and pieces of porcelain fall away,” Yes. How else would I be a watcher?”

“Crows are watchers too.”

“I have actual power. Not just my eyes you simpleton!” Sonic's voice rattles his gears that are spinning into blurs,” How is it that you don't know anything!”

Saitama shrugs,” Magic is difficult to understand...”

Sonic's talks through grit teeth,“How about this? I will explain whatever you don't understand in exchange.”

“Why do you want it so bad? It's just an ordinary mirror?”

Sonic looks to the hunter with skepticism, then to the mirror with obvious longing,” Mirrors are hard to come by. Especially silver hand mirrors. They reflect the truth of things. A skilled person can scry and the more artistic can create entire visions. There is an entire realm of magic here. Most reflective surfaces are not as good, and thus the magic is flawed. This mirror is without flaw. Perfect.”

“What will you do with it?”

Sonic laughs bitterly,” I will look at it.”

“If you help me break this curse anyway you can, you can have it. No secrets.”

“Deal!” quickly, enthusiastically, Sonic agrees and is looking into the depths of the mirror, sitting down on the stair, gaze transfixed,” You may pass, this is all I wanted from you.”

Metal fingers tap against the glass softly in clicks and the warlock sighs almost softly.

“Hey, do you know anything about the curse that you haven't told me?”

Sonic peeks at Saitama over the mirror,” You realize as a watcher I am supposed to _keep_ secrets. I suppose if I am vague...Genos's heart is keeping him prisoner. The cogs of his heart will turn for no one. He lives in a different place, somewhere in the past and can not be swayed to join the living...It was easy to fool the lot of them. They didn't even know I was dead until I put the spell on the door.”

Sonic chuckles to himself, but Saitama pulls down the mirror to stare at him,” You did that?”

Sonic rolls his eyes,” I didn't know I was doing it. Not until it was too late. Overnight the prince transformed and was all fire and misery, reliving that night I suppose where everything was turned to ash. The guard took everyone they could and fled to the outskirts of the woods. Everyone else had three days.” Sonic shrugged,” I told Mumen to go, but he's an idiot. I've lived here for years under his hospitality...he practically spat in my face when I tried to return his kindness. My lord was less than pleased with my impromptu deal so he cursed me to the same fate.”

Sonic looked back to the mirror and Saitama pulled his hand away. Sonic's face softened imperceptibly even if the smirk was still on his face,” Now we'll all die.”

He looked up at Saitama mirthlessly,” I was stillborn, hero Saitama. Do you think I _can_ die a second time when I never had life to begin with?”

“Stop being morbid. Can you undo the curse on the door at least?”

Sonic scowls,” I don't have that kind of time. I touched that door everyday at the clock's chime for seven years without knowing why. I have no idea what I had done only that I was the culprit. There are secrets even I do not know.”

Magic was too whimsical for Saitama's liking. There were no concrete answers, just whims and emotions attached to vague ideas that he could get no grasp on.

It was maddening,” Did you curse them then?”

Sonic's laugh startles even himself and he quickly reins himself in with a derisive snort,” I don't have that kind of transformative power. I can not create. You speak of the Mad Wizard.”

“So if I find that guy...”

“All curses have a catch, a frayed string you have to pull at to unravel, you have only to look. Finding the Wizard, even killing him will do you no good.”

Saitama sighs,” Then...do you know where Fubuki's eyes are?”

Sonic grumbles,” The Lord King is impervious to my prying. Don't bother.”

Sighing, Saitama heads toward the door, but Sonic speaks again,” We're in trouble by the way. You for poaching and me for telling the King you were poaching.”

Saitama sees the mirror that Sonic hasn't torn his eyes from when he looks back. There is no reflection.

“Thanks for the heads up.”

Sonic manages to tear his gaze away,” You won't take it away if I can't help you, will you?”

“Keep it.” Saitama pushes through the large doors and sees a gaggle of children running up and down the steps. The white-haired teen Saitama can't remember the name of looks up from his place lounging on the stair, then away with a snicker,” Oh look, the heart breaker's back.”

“What?”

“First ya kill a deer from Genos's father's herd and then ya butcher his mom's roses. Classic prick behavior.”

The children look from the teenager to Saitama and despite their shuffling, he feels that you could hear a pin drop,” I didn't-”

“You're mean.” one of the girls informs him and one of the boys laughs.

“I didn't-”

“I gotta admit. You got balls stickin' it to the King, though I guess he doesn't have much of a choice but to take it I mean...you're the hero after all. I guess you do whatever you like, kicking people when they're already groveling. That's awful shitty.”

The young man stands, lean arms swinging loosely with the movement before he slides them along the rough paintbrush of his hair,” How much d'ya think your bald mug is worth? I might just get rid of you myself 'cause I don't like you.”

The children run up the stairs as the boy readies his fists, but the girl that called Saitama mean is moving between them, hands on her hips,” NO FIGHTING!”

“Zenko, go upstairs. We're not fighting, I just think this guy is up to no good! I'm tired of all these fake heroes...”

The little girl crosses her arms and stands feet apart,” No fighting, Garou.”

He scowls then hisses,” We can't just-Zenko come _back_.”

Zenko marches up to Saitama like the cutest tin soldier and fixes him with a glare that reminds him of an impatient teacher.

“Boys do stupid things all the time like break things. Big brother says that things can be replaced, but you still have to smooth things over. Did you want to upset Genos?”

She's surprisingly mature for her age, speaking clearly and marking her point with a lean as if to imply he can confide in her. Saitama finds it somewhat endearing despite the ridiculousness of it all,” No, I didn't.”

She holds out her hand,” Then we'll apologize together okay? You can tell him the story of why you're sorry and you can be friends again! You're good at story telling Mister Saitama. It will be okay!”

He thinks of Boros offering his seat in disguised challenge. He thinks of Genos flying into a rage at the injustice of it. He hopes Genos will understand the reason behind the action or give him at least a chance to explain. He nods despite this, takes her hand at her insistent waving, and follows the little girl with Garou hovering behind them like a wasp at the ready to sting. 

She marches right up the stairs of the West Wing and knocks with force, surprising Saitama with the strength of her thin arms. She startles him even further with her yell of “LORD GENOS! CAN YOU COME OUT PLEASE?!”

There is no answer.

For a long time, they sit outside the door. Zenko knocks and yells again, but to no avail. They sit on the stairs and Garou says,” He'll never come out. He never does.”

Zenko pats his hand comfortingly and he surprisingly squeezes it fondly,” We just have to be patient! Mister Saitama!”

Saitama jolts at his name,” Yes?”

“Please tell us another story?”

The other children seem to gather from upstairs and draw close. Zenko's amber eyes look at him imploringly and Garou's head settles atop her hair as he mouths “do it” threateningly.

“Ah...I don't know what to tell.”

“Monsters!” one of the boys shouts excitedly.

“Dragon story!”

“Princess story!” one of the girls says.

“Ah, I got it. So one time, when I was in the north-”

He told them about the northern prince who braved the cold naked. It wasn't exactly a princess story, but he had called out to Saitama,” Help me bald-honey!” from the jaws of a great bird like a damsel only to punch it apart as Saitama got close. A trap. Saitama easily outstripped his strength and the Prince had asked for his help with long, fluttering lashes flecked with snow.

They laughed at Pri's antics, marveled at the Prisoner Prince's strength, and were in awe when he helped repair the prison wall that the Prince had unwittingly busted through. They both fought off migrating dragons from destroying the Prison Castle. The older Prince was more than happy to answer any questions Saitama had had and it had lapsed into an easy, albeit tenuous friendship. In this he was sure to relay all of the information he knew about dragons to the children. Considering they lived in a palace made of gold, he thought it might be useful. Common sense things like that always were.

Zenko asked the question he had been wondering himself from her place leaning against Garou,” Wait. Then why haven't dragon's attacked Gildreth if it's made of gold?”

Saitama shrugged and Garou's face split into a wolfish grin full of pointed teeth,” The Gilded are of dragon blood. This is their horde.”

Saitama frowned,” That...doesn't make sense.”

Garou rolled his yellow eyes, showing his contempt with a shake of his head,” The Gilded were given a cup of the great gold dragon's blood for taking pity on her after her fight with the great Blast. Idiot. Read a history book. This is a territory of the greatest dragon that ever lived. Even if she is gone, her line goes on with Genos so...dragons steer clear of the place.”

He felt his face go red. He had asked Genos if he _believed_ in Blast as he did. His family line was proof of his existence. Damn.

He felt foolish.

“Well that's the end of that...so...”

“I want a _real_ princess story.” the other, steel made little girl said sullenly and Saitama began to sweat.

“I...have only met Princes and Kings...” her eyes began to well with black tears and Saitama scrambled,” A fairy story then?”

They all turned at the soft click of the door and the lot of them went silent as a Genos pulled it open entirely, gold eyes gleaming molten at Saitama,” What goes on here. I told you to send for me Garou.”

Garou stands, bristling ,” Answer the door then you deaf-!”

“NO FIGHTING!”

Zenko seized Saitama's hand and he stood before she could put real effort into tugging him. She rushed over and stood before the King, looking even smaller than she was. She stared Genos down, and stepped on Saitama's foot in warning with a hiss,” Say it.”

“Um, I wanted to apologize. That deer thing was misshapen and attacked me before so I hit it um, and the roses were overgrown so I just pruned them a bit. I'm...sorry.”

Zenko pulled him into a deep bow,” WE'RE VERY SORRY!”

Genos let loose a low grumble before Garou stepped forward warningly.

“Thank you Zenko. I feel better.” Genos said softly.

She beamed at him brightly and Saitama rose with her.

“See?” Zenko said smugly,” Friends again.”

Garou pulled the girl away, eyes flicking between Genos and Saitama,” Let's have them talk it out, slugger.”

The little girl flinched and the teenager winced. His mouth parted to say something, but she threw herself at him and he pulled her up, into his arms and jerked his head in indication that the other children follow. They trailed behind him like ducklings and all of them threw glances backward before disappearing behind a door.

“Follow me.”

“Genos-”

“Don't.” Genos plodded along, tail brushing the carpet behind him. His clawed feet had always looked to Saitama like a dragon's but now that he looked closely in silence as he followed him, he saw that wasn't so.

He thought of the misshapen creature that had attacked him.

The back legs had been shaped like that, hadn't they? He was unsure. Animals could be built any way, shape or form but Saitama knew how to take them apart. They were just pieces like anything else.

Genos led him through long hallways, over marble, carpeted marble, and wood flooring and they stood at the door that led to the rose garden. Genos held it open and gestured for Saitama to walk ahead. He made his way past the towering hooded form, through the wide, glass riddled door and winced.

A wind had scattered the piles of cut branches and stalks over the large expanse of the garden. It covered the stone pathways and the rose bushes looked like barren skeletons.

“Explain.”

Saitama swallowed nervously,” I pruned the roses. I did some severe cuts because they were so overgrown, but they will grow stronger...and they'll look better with the flowers facing outward, uh c'mon let me show you.”

He trailed gloved hands over the cut stalks, miming the cuts of his knife, explaining the importance of the angle, and pointing out the little prongs that would become white roses.

“They were hers and you cut them. My mother...she planted them herself.”

Saitama hung his head,” I'm sorry, it just bothered me that they were so overgrown. Parts of them were becoming diseased I think...”

It was like everyone had given up on life after the curse even though Mumen had said hope was all they had. There were no crops to prepare for winter. If they planted some things now, perhaps they could make it through the winter, but they had to-

Saitama tried to throw off that line of thought,” If they're important to you, you should take care of them.”

Genos made no comment as he walked to the low fence that circled the garden. He stepped over it without difficulty, but Saitama had to hop over.

The King rose his hand, then let it fall, and after a pregnant pause, he heard the distant shuffling of underbrush.

Saitama's jaw dropped as a large creature swept regally out of a thicket, flattening the plants in its wake. It looked much like the misshapen thing except its crown of ivory horns had two prominent black prongs that swept back along its skull to curl up to the sky.

Just like Genos.

Its thin fur was almost golden in its dun color, standing twice the height of Genos. Its eyes were large amber jewels the size of two of Saitama's fists ringed with hay colored lashes. Its long snout drew forward, its cloven, clawed feet padding silently as it drew forward. Its movements were fluid and unabashed. Genos lifted his palm and the creature nuzzled it. It yawned, maw blooming into four, spiny tendrils with a long, tongue flicking out the hollow root beneath the start of its esophagus.

“This is a King's Deer. There were only four, as it should be and you killed the fawn.”

As if understanding Genos's soft words, the nostrils at the bridge between the creature's eyes flared and it let loose a whine.

“It ran at me with acid and it was-”

“For each horn you took as prize you will earn it with one month of labor.”

He fixed Saitama with a stare he could feel on his bald head through his hood, but Genos did not speak until Saitama met his eyes,” Children without parents are called orphans. There is no word for a parent that has lost a child because it is too awful a thing to surmise with a single word.”

The creature broke away, lumbering into the underbrush, its flank thumping painfully against a tree it passed.

Shame washed over Saitama. The thing had been so misshapen! It had looked almost nothing like that creature! How could they even call it a deer when it was a predatory animal?

“What would you have me do?”

“You must break this curse, of course, but you are forbidden to leave here now. For now, dinner is at seven every day.”

Saitama felt sick,” W-what if I'm not hungry? Sometimes I-”

Genos tore his hood from his head,” You _cut_ my mother's roses and hunted my father's struggling herd. _If you don't eat with me? Then you don't eat at all. Do not miss one day._ ”

Saitama swallowed,” Are you serious?”

“Entirely. I don't know what possessed you to think you could take away the things they-” Genos's voice broke and Saitama felt something in his core collapse, leaving a yawning empty pit. He was a monster.

“I'm sorry, I was just-”

Genos shook his head,” Leave me.”

Saitama had no choice but to head into the castle. He chanced a glance backward, through the pane in the door and saw Genos staring blankly at one of the pruned bushes. Saitama had mistakenly thought that because the plants were left to their own devices that they were not cared for. He saw Genos reach out with a golden claw to brush at the cut stalk. Even from his distance behind the door, Saitama could see the way the plant blackened and curled away dying.

Saitama tore his eyes away, but he saw the way Genos collapsed, hands over his face.

Feeling of no use, he made his way to the foyer. Garou and the children had not returned and somehow that made the already empty castle emptier. He made his way over to the charcoal sketch and pulled open the door.

Saitama was plunged into darkness when he shut the painting-door behind him, but it was of no matter. The hunter sat against the wall for sometime, looking at nothing.

He didn't feel so tired, but his soul seemed to weigh heavily right beneath the skin, pulling and tugging uncomfortably at him. After a long while of feeling bothered, the hunter stood and began to walk.

Distantly, Geryuganshoop's voice whispered darkly, but he paid it no mind, focused on not tripping in the dark. He trailed a hand along the wall,” It's gotta be here somewhere.”

The hunter felt along the wall blindly, then began pushing at it a differing intervals. Eventually, Geryuganshoop sighed and he fell through an opening into the bright lights of the underground tomb.

“So, you've returned.”

Saitama brought up a shoulder and let it fall. After a few noncommittal grunts, the wraith fell silent and just watched him from over the water. He set down his pack near the entrance and made his way through the rows of people. Immediately he was drawn to the woman, Psykos.

She was a tall, thin wisp with short, unruly hair. She had odd lenses over her face like Mumen, but her eyes could be seen beneath them. They were dark emeralds set in doll's eyes and Saitama brushed them closed with his thumbs.

He set to work. He wiggled his fingers between the gaps of her silver plates, careful to bend slowly so as not to crease the metal. He peels panels from her chest around the key port and stares at the cogs within.

Looking at the way the cogs spin when he turned her key...He winds it back the opposite way and sees the tumblers. They work. He spins the key the other way and sees that half the cogs do not turn. He looks at the pins against the key and sees the problem. Humming, he goes back to his pack and plucks two of the sewing needles from their place pushed through the leather.

“What are you doing?! You can't pull her apart like some child's toy! This is-”

How long has the octopus been screeching? An aggressive wind picks up and tries to pull at his limbs but he adjusts his stride and easily makes his way back to the stone slab. Ah, the wraith has hidden her beneath the stone.

“I was gonna see if I could pick the lock. The key starts sticking after a certain point for some reason?”

The thing's eyes narrow,” You...think you can wake her?”

Saitama makes a wobbly gesture with his hand,” Haven't tried yet, but...how long since you've seen this woman awake? What more can I do?”

The wraith just tentatively sprawls his limbs and the stone gives way again.

Saitama does not know how long he has been there, but it seems that a second key is needed after the first and he spends a long time pushing pins and trying to pop them into place so he can wind the cogs with his hands through holes he has made in her metal skin.

He tries not to think of her as a person, but as a doll. It doesn't really work and the hunter finds himself sick to his stomach and sweating the longer he has to watch her eyes slide open and closed with her cogs' turning.

At one point, he lifts a hand to wipe his face, letting go of a cog and suddenly, they all lurch forward in a violent spin and he screams at the work that has been undone.

“DAMN IT!”

Why does he-everything he touches-everywhere he goes he-Saitama runs gloved hands over his head, taking down his cape and rubs his eyes wearily.

“How are you able to hold them like that?”

Saitama looks up at Geryuganshoop, shoulders tensing in annoyance before he sees the awe on the wraith's face,” What do you mean? I'm just holding them in place. You just grab them, it's not that hard.”

“I've been...” the wraith looks sheepish, almost,” trying to help but I can't.”

Saitama snorts,” You don't even have fingers to grip with! How can you-”

“I'M TELEKINETIC!”

“Eh? You mean you're a psychic? You just shout all over the castle though! What a waste!”

“WELL WHAT WOULD YOU-ah oh dear, um-You need to go to the dining hall.”

“Wha-”Saitama remembers his sentencing, if it can even be called that and curses,” DAMMIT!”

He rushes out the entrance and blindly fumbles for the door, finding it withing a minute and tumbling out. He bolts across the foyer and past the hallway of paintings to nearly rip the door off its hinges as he bursts in.

“SORRY I-”

The King pulls his head from his hands, eyes dark black beneath his hood. He's sitting in the very center of the high table,” Ah. You came after all.”

“Of course I did, you said-”

“Why?”

Saitama couldn't believe this,” Are you kidding me?! You told me to!”

“You...did not have to.”

If Saitama had hair, he would have ripped it out,” You said to! Why are you surprised! Did you want me to come or not?!”

The Beast shifts in his chair,” I...am glad.”

He really looked anything, _but_ glad. His eyes were swallowed up by the shadow of his hood, the gold rings lost to the pitch of his sclera. His head was low, voice soft and weightless. Despite his monstrous height, his fearsome visage, he looked small sitting alone at the high table.

Saitama huffed out a breath, walking over,” I'm sorry for yelling.”

Saitama sat at the long table in the center before Genos, taking a place at the edge of the bench. He thought of dead roses, the bones of animals, the bend of silver beneath his hands and grimaced at his lap,” Have you decided what my labor will be?”

Genos looked somewhere beyond Saitama. He pulled his hood down over his face, and leaned back in his chair. The wood creaked and Saitama was worried his breathing was somehow too loud in the silence so he held it.

“Tell me the fairy story. If I like it, you can eat in peace. If I don't...” Genos trailed off and Saitama wondered if that was a vague threat or if the boy had forgotten what he was going to say.

Saitama rested his hands on his knees, completely thrown by the request.

A story, huh? He smiled wryly at his hands. He could do that.

He cleared his throat, ran through his memories, then lifted his head,” Lord Genos, have you heard of the Elixir of Life?”

Genos's voice was like thin smoke being carried away by the wind,” No. Tell me about it please.”

Saitama talked. He had talked for some time before Genos leaned forward. He told him about the elves he had gleaned stories and rumors from. He went on and on, until the light flickered back into Genos's eyes. Though it was like a weak flame, he coaxed it brighter with descriptions of the elves' magic that was passed from generation to generation with song. He tried to refrain from smiling when Genos plied him with questions. Saitama talked of the great guardian at the cave that had asked him a confusing riddle and was in awe when Genos immediately solved it.

“Of course teacher could solve such a-”

Saitama waved his hand,” No way! I just punched the creature when it lunged at me!”

Genos laughed. It was a full bodied, explosive laughter that made Saitama think of thunder, of boulders crashing down a mountain and he felt that Genos's voice was rough again. Even though he had gotten the boy to laugh, it wasn't the carefree sound he had heard not too long ago and he resolved to hear it again.

He told Genos about the winding journey to the fabled spring full of monsters, enchantments, and organizations hell bent on creating the ultimate life form. He talked and talked until Genos was at the edge of his seat. He soon could not speak without yawning, his voice raspy and unused to lengthy speech, but pulling Genos from his misery, righting his wrongs, he could do it.

Genos looked reluctant, but he talked as Saitama yawned again,” I think here is a good place to stop, for now. Thank you.”

When Saitama looked up from rubbing his eyes, Genos was gone and there was a small dinner of leek soup, a roll and a pitcher of water before him. He nearly fell into his dinner twice, jerking from sleep. He hardly tasted the meal, and only knew it was warm. He remembered that he forgot his pack in the crypts and that Genos probably knew that he was down there but hadn't asked about it.

His eyes slipped shut and he let his head fall to the table. It was such a relief to close his burning eyes that he decided to stay like that for just a moment longer. He slept without dreaming.


	7. Quest

When Saitama wakes, he feels clammy from sweat beneath his armor. He pushes himself from the table and wipes the crust from his eyes. He groans when he notices the small puddle of drool beneath his chin and wipes at it with his cape. Slowly, he cracks his back, and wonders when he fell asleep. Did he sleep through the midnight chime? He hadn't thought he was _that_ tired.

Saitama ambles from the dining hall and slowly makes his way through the hallway of paintings. Again, he stops at the barren spot. Someone is dusting here to keep it clean, but the new wallpaper is a slightly different color, lighter from less exposure. He drums his fingers over the dent through the paper and wonders where the painting is. The thought strikes through him right to his gut and he feels more awake.

Must be important then.

Where would they store it? It must have been damaged somehow? Or perhaps the gash in the wall was from its removal?

Saitama yawned and then grimaced at the rank smell of his breath. He hadn't a chance to brush his teeth after he had eaten and now was aware of the film over his teeth. He decided to retrieve his pack, then freshen up. Nodding to himself, he quickly ran down the hallway, flung open the door to the grand foyer and immediately ran across to go behind the painting.

It was funny that Mumen had said to not go without him, but so far he had had no trouble. Saitama found the door to the crypt within minutes this time. He pushed it open, grabbed the pack and slammed it shut behind him, ignoring Geryuganshoop's squawking.

Saitama was cheered a bit by the fact that he could at least remember how to get out of that place. After having been through it twice, he was sure he had the hang of it. Geryuganshoop tried to yell at him as he left the painting, but he shut his voice away behind the door.

Easy as that.

The further Saitama went upstairs, the more his hearing seemed to dim. He picked at his ear, running fingers over the holes to try and pop them, but to no avail. Frustrated and more than a little irritated, he clomped his way to his room. The hunter flung his door open with every intention of going straight to the bathroom. Instead, he rushed over to where Sonic lay on the floor, unmoving and face down on the mirror.

“Hey! Are you-?”

He grabbed him by the shoulder to turn him but ended up letting go with a yelp. His eyes were coinless black pits. As Sonic's face hit the floor, Saitama winced at the further shattering of porcelain, but heard the loud, gear-rattling snore right after.

He was asleep?

Saitama turned him over again, onto his back, avoided looking at his empty sockets, and saw that Sonic had been laying on the mirror. There were two sliver coins over it, and Saitama understood what had happened. Sonic had used his weird powers again, except on himself? Somehow?

Shaking his head, Saitama attempted to shake him awake, but he snored on. Finally, Saitama let loose a wordless shout and Sonic nearly knocked heads with him when he sprang up, knife in hand and swinging blindly. Oh, right. His eyes.

Saitama easily caught his hands,” Dude. Calm down, why're you sleeping in my room?”

“Saitama.” Sonic said, and he wrenched his hands away. Saitama let him and tossed his pack onto the bed as Sonic felt around on the floor for his coins.

“I have not slept in years. It would be troublesome if they began to bother me to put them to sleep, too.”

“You put Mumen to sleep.”

Sonic stilled for a second, then put on his mask and slung the mirror onto the hook at his hip with a snort,” That is different.”

Saitama stared.

Sonic stared back.

“What.”

“Why?”

Sonic ran his hands over the grinning mask, his obvious annoyance a sharp contrast to it ,” Are you...demanding an answer of me?”

Saitama thought on that. It seemed that Sonic was an honorable creature. Even though he obviously did not want to divulge this secret, he would tell Saitama because he had given him the mirror. Saitama felt that he needed to draw a line in the sand so he did,” I want to know, but you do not have to tell me if you so choose.”

“Then obviously I choose not to!” Sonic tromped out of the room in a huff and Saitama went to bathe. What a weird guy.

After Saitama had cleaned up, he left the room to put on his armor, but it was not on the bed where he had thrown it. He looked on the floor, though he was sure he had not missed, when he saw a swath of color where the bed should have none.

There was a dove-gray outfit laid out on the bed. Cautiously, securing his towel, Saitama approached the curtains and yelled as he yanked them aside. No, just the window. He suddenly dropped to the floor to look under the bed.

Nothing there either.

He tore open the doors of the unused wardrobe, rifling through the clothes to find-

Ah, there weren't clothes there before.

Tentatively, he brushed through the clothing and was irked that his armor was not among the hanging outfits.

He pulled out the yellow one at the back and was immediately disappointed to see that it was some fancy gold silk brocade. He hung it back up, rolling his eyes. Perhaps he had walked into the wrong room somehow?

He turned back to the bed to look at the outfit laid out on top of it. It was some kind of gray long coat, paired with a cloudy looking dress shirt, a deep gray vest with gold buttons lining either side, long black pants embroidered with doves along the seams and long boots...

He scowled,” What am I, some nancy boy?”

He rifled through the clothes in the wardrobe and found outfits of bold colors and ostentatious designs.

“There's got to be a regular shirt somewhere!”

There were none.

“Oh! OH!” He rushed to his pack where he kept his spare shirt and-It had been rifled through and most notably, the dun hide and horns of the King's deer fawn were gone. Wind effectively knocked from his sails, Saitama considered just going back to bed.

After long consideration and staring at the ceiling, he came to a decision. He went through the wardrobe, picking out the plainest clothes he could find with the most amount of room. He tried on all the pants and was dismayed that they fit snug, a bit _too_ well. How did nobles wear such _tight_ pants! Huffing angrily, he nearly ripped them to pieces taking them off in mortification. It didn't help that there were no underclothes. Sighing, Saitama decided to wear a thin, pale yellow dress shirt and wear it untucked so it hung to his thighs. That might cover him and protect his modesty.

Whoever did this was gonna pay for making him even _think_ that!

He wriggled into the least ornamental pants he could find but still felt ridiculous, as if he were wearing leggings like a bard. He threw on some black boots that he found in the wardrobe, choosing them because they went mid-calf like his own. It was unfortunate that they were embroidered with gold thread into leaves and vines, but he supposed he had to make do. They were much better than the pointed boots or the very many heeled, ankle boots provided him. Yes, much better.

Walking in such tight pants made him anxious for no one to see him, but he needed to find the thief, and quickly!

He rushed from his room and began throwing open doors. He made his way to Mumen's room, so far unsuccessful, but perhaps the regent knew something!

He threw open the door,” Hey! MUMEN! Have you seen my armorrrr-uh?”

He walked over to the sleeping man and shook him,”OI! This is kind of important!”

“Erza-wha? Saita-”

“Where's my armor? Hey! Dude! Don't go back to sleep!”

Mumen jerked awake,” W-what are you doing in my room!? Soni-oh.”

Mumen had looked obviously to his left side on the bed, and Saitama knew then that Sonic usually stayed. Why would a guy watch another guy sleep? He resolved to keep a closer eye on Sonic. The guy was just creepy.

“Where's my armor?”

“Your-oh! That color is lovely on you.” Mumen said through a stifled yawn and nearly fell asleep again before Saitama pulled him upright and off the bed by his shoulders,” Nuh-uh. You're helping me. Where's everyone else?”

Mumen was unaffected by Saitama's manhandling, yawning again. Why did a clockwork man need to yawn? Maybe it was just a reflexive habit?

“Hm. I have duties to attend to. You may follow me if you wish. I suppose I shall get ready. Greet the day, sera.”

Saitama set him on his feet and the clockwork man took a hairbrush from the top of his armoire and began to brush between the gaps in his parts. Saitama turned around because it would be too strange if he did not. Impatient to begin, Saitama tapped his foot. The regent walked over to let him through the door, dressed in new clothes and Saitama snorted,” Why bother wearing fresh clothes? You don't sweat or anything right?”

Mumen noticeably wilted and Saitama felt a bit bad, gently nudging him with an elbow, remembering Mumen's compliment earlier. “Well, green's your color, anyway.”

Mumen smiled dimly and they regained an air of camaraderie.

“ Yes, even though you haven't tucked your shirt, it was like it was _made_ for you.”

“I guess?”

Mumen stared pointedly at him, and Saitama felt as he did when he hadn't caught something someone said,” What?”

“It was like they were _made_ for you.” Mumen says again.

“Yeah dude, I heard you the first time.”

Mumen sighs. Then,” Saitama, what do you think of Lord Genos?”

“Why do you talk about him like that? Aren't you cousins?”

“I have sworn my unending fealty to uphold the law of the land and incorporate his majesty's justice wherever the need arises for-”

“Yeah, yeah. You guys are such a chatty bunch.”

“So?”

“What?”

“What do you think of him?” Mumen presses.

Saitama squints in thought. What does he think of him? What do his thoughts matter? Everyone seems to value his opinion for some reason in this place and he can already feel the pressure of expectations slide right off.

“He could definitely loosen up. He needs to laugh more or something. Kids should be kids.”

Mumen hums, face tight,” Yes...I suppose. Prince-ah! K-King Genos has had much deal with from a young age...”

“Still...You know, what bugs me is that you all act as though there is no future to work toward. There aren't any crops, the whole place is gathering dust-I- um, did I say something wrong?”

Mumen shakes his head, wiping his eyes with a spotty purple rag,” No sera.”

Mumen is quiet the rest of the way, and Saitama refrains from saying anymore for fear of having to deal with hysterics.

Mumen heads into a room and Saitama's eyes widen. A great many beds line the walls, but a few of them have been pushed together and a great many children lie in piles or alone on top of them coloring reading or talking animatedly. There are definitely more children than Saitama thought. They look up and shout greetings at Mumen and Saitama. Suddenly Garou was rushing to the door fast as a loosed arrow, snarling,” Out.”

Mumen sighed,” Garou, they can't stay idle and lay about. They need to go to lessons.”

Garou saw Mumen, and suddenly stepped back, cowed but still thrumming with tension,” Sorry m'lud. Why'd ya bring _him_.” Garou's yellow eyes caught on Saitama and narrowed. He looked him over,” Without that enchanted armor I bet you're built like paper. _Let's-_ ”

“No fighting...” mumbled a firm little voice and Garou huffed, sliding hands into the pockets of white trousers.

“I wasn't.”

“Uh huh.” The little girl, Zenko, muttered unconvinced. She looked at Mumen,” Lessons already? I guess I'll gather everyone. C'mon Garou. Don't be a bonehead.”

Suddenly, she and Garou went ramrod straight. Both looking at each other tensely, before Garou coughed and went about rallying the other children and Zenko did the same.

Saitama flinched away when Mumen suddenly leaned close and almost missed his low whisper,” You haven't made any progress yet have you? In waking the people in the crypts?”

Saitama mutely shook his head.

Mumen looked disappointed, but then smiled warmly,” We still have time.”

Once all the children were gathered and ready, Mumen lead them through a great many hallways until they came to the dining hall where the two old ladies were sitting. Books, papers and ink pots all laid out.

Once they were all seated, Garou announced,” See ya at quarter to nine.”

The children nodded. A few said,”Yessir.” and Zenko winked with a wide grin.

Garou waited until the door was shut before he attempted to intimidate Saitama,” Let's end this.”

“When did we start?”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen! I think we can come to some sort of armistice?”

Garou listened to Mumen, mouth twitching,” Why?”

Mumen attempted to lay a steadying hand on the young man's shoulder, but the boy ducked it like a hit,” Um ah, sorry, um. Well I think Saitama can break the curse-”

“Why?”

“Be-because he-”

Garou sneered at Saitama,” What just 'cause you say ya will and you brag about saving people that makes you capable? I have yet to see _any_ impressive ability other than being able to bald at the ripe age of thirty.”

“WHAT! YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH YOU BALDY! WHAD'YOU KNOW ANYWAY!?” Saitama tried to rein in his anger at the teenager's cackling. Garou had struck a nerve. Did he really look that old?

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is or are ya-”

“Stop this Garou. I mean it.” Mumen's voice was low and commanding as Saitama had never heard it.

Even so, Garou stepped back, but went on less viciously,” There's no sense in being a hero. Everything's all disjointed with everyone going after this and that and spreading the misery around. I won't stand for it. The world as it is right now is just ripe for the taking and I'm taking it all! _Mark my words. As the human monster, I'm gonna destroy the lot of ya and everything you stand for. What can one guy do against pure chaos?_ ”

“What the hell are you going on about!?”

“I'll show ya sometime,” yellow eyes flicked between Saitama and Mumen,” In the future.”

Garou ran off and Saitama looked to the regent in disbelief,” Are you kidding me. What is _wrong_ with that kid?”

Mumen shook his head,” I have never heard him talk like that...not since...oh dear.”

“What?”

Mumen shook his head,” Garou...he came to us not too long ago. He tried to crush the Tank Tops-”

“Oh? How'd that end up?”

“He beat them and myself. He told us we were unworthy of upholding the name of the greatest monster that ever lived. I guess he had heard of a great monster living here and hoped to destroy it but...he ended up changing into one of us as he tried to destroy hero and monsters alike...”

Mumen seemed lost in thought, then,” I thought he would leave that behind, growing attached to Sir Metal Bat and his sister, but since Sir Metal Bat went missing, he's become like this again. What heroes Genos doesn't manage to drive away Garou-ah n-nevermind it.”

“Other heroes?”

“Nevermind it, sera, I-”

“Spit it out. What happened to them?”

“You...you won't leave, will you?” Mumen asks nervously.

“I'm here for the long haul.”

“Still...er-well, Genos is difficult...When he first changed...” Mumen spoke so lowly that Saitama had to lean in to hear him,” He was in such pain, such misery that he did not recognize any of us. We thought him a monster. We fled the castle, and resolved to kill the beast-I I swear we did not know! But we approached the castle, the knights, squires, the local guild and I, and before we could launch our attack, Garou appeared. He drove off the Tank Tops by beating down Tank Top Master then made quick work of the rest of us...He moved so fast, his blows were calculated and precise! I have never seen movements to match their like.”

“So he's strong?”

“Yes, sera! Insanely so! Sir Metal Bat that was able to match him in strength before we began to change, and the strange powers they both possessed were unable to be used. I have never seen a more fierce battle! Since then, Garou and Genos have driven off anyone who could try to help us...We became doomed.”

Saitama snorted,” Genos practically rolled out the red carpet for me after I showed him my strength, how did he-?”

Mumen smiles brightly,” Mister Saitama is exceptional.”

Saitama grimaced,” You're making me uncomfortable.”

“I apologize. That was not my intent.”

“So, Genos?”

“Oh, yes. He is...intense. He adamantly refused to let others be caught up in this mess, and Garou outmatched any who stayed too long. If only Garou were more motivated to try and lift the curse himself...”

“Can he?”

Mumen snorted, shrugging,” He certainly can't, now that he's cursed.”

“Do you think he knows something?”

Mumen frowns,” Yes.”

Perhaps he should talk to Garou. _After_ he got his armor back, that was.

He followed Mumen to the North exit, where the rose garden was, and sheepishly, Saitama helped clear up the plant debris he had left behind the day before.

“There's less of it?”

“Yes, Lord Genos was out here until he could not work anymore and retired to the West Wing.”

Those words flipped his gut,” Ah...I-”

“You already apologized, sera.”

“Right.” Saitama frowned at the bundles they had made. Mumen instructed him to put the weeds in the woods. When he made his way back, the rose cuttings were bundled.

Mumen ran his hands over a thorn covered stalk, grinning boyishly,” It's times like these that I'm glad to be made of metal...Though,” He opened his fists to reveal that he had crushed the plant to pulp and his smile dimmed,” When you can't feel it, it's hard to judge how much grip to use.”

Saitama chose not to speak. Mumen's words had a connotation of familiarity to them that he wished he did not understand.

He took the bundles from Mumen gently, then followed the regent around the castle. As they neared the western wings, Saitama noted that the castle was not ringed by walls, it had no gates, moat or any protection whatsoever.

“This place doesn't even have a drawbridge or anything.”

“We didn't need it.”

Saitama raised a brow, but Mumen pointed ahead,” There. We'll put this with the mulch.”

There was a large greenhouse by the edge of the woods. It was a small thing that was the span of maybe two small cottages. Mumen trounced up to it, opened the door, which was intricately woven metal. It almost looked elvish if not for the imperfections in the glass. They stepped inside, and Saitama's lungs protested the humidity. Each breath he took was too sticky for his liking and Mumen chuckled softly at his expression. There were a great many plants, most of which Saitama did not have names for. They ranged from twice his height to flowers small as clover. Right outside the greenhouse were small furrows that held what Saitama recognized as turnips, carrots, potatoes and spinach.

“We must work quickly, the inside of my plating does not fare too well against the damp.”

“Why don't you have someone else do it then?”

Mumen opened his mouth, closed it, then,” I'd rather do it myself. The plants here are...Genos's mother loved plants and I can't trust them to anyone else. I can't risk any of them permanently dying. I want Genos to see them when he gets better.”

“Better?”

Mumen stopped his work of grinding the plants to mulch,” Ah. I-I only meant-”

“What?”

Mumen stammers for a moment, hands working furiously before,” Wh-when the curse is broken of course! W-We can't risk the King rusting! Aha.”

Gold doesn't rust. He isn't sure what the black metal parts are, but he's sure that Mumen Riderson is lying to him. He nods and the man sighs in relief. He's also more tight-lipped after his slip up, so they work in silence.

When they finish, Saitama's knees are dusted with dirt, his boots crusted with mud and his palms are green. Mumen puts his face in his hands,” I have made a grave mistake.”

Saitama laughs and Mumen helplessly laughs along with him, though it's almost hysterical with nerves. 

Mumen unearths two potatoes and then grabs a basket at the inside of the door and chucks them in. It's then, that they head into the woods.

“Ah, I should have brought my hunting knife. Well, not the same as my bow, but stones'll do.”

“Why-?”

“For hunting?”

“If you wish. I was going to collect eggs from my hens.”

“Oh? They didn't change too?”

“You have to be inside the actual castle.”

“Ah.”

They approach a small, thatched hut and Saitama can hear faint clucking.

“Sonny boy, Sonnnnny c'mere boy!” Mumen clicks his tongue softly and suddenly a dark creature darts up to his legs and winds lazily around them. It has pointed ears, slit-pupiled eyes and vaguely resembles a cat. Saitama tries to coax it over to pet, but after a whiff of his outstretched hand, the creature turns away.

Definitely a cat. They've never liked him. He doesn't know what it is about animals, but they just hate him.

“Weird, he's usually so sweet on strangers.”

Saitama just shrugs and Mumen seems to eye him warily, before turning to the small hut. He slips into it and leaves Saitama to his own devices. He tries to play with the cat, but he's just staring, moving away when Saitama inches closer.

The cat's jaw seems to unhinge as it yawns and Saitama wonders if maybe he's wrong about it being a cat? He decides there are too many weird creatures around these parts to worry about it. The thing's golden eyes have him thinking of another pair.

His heart somehow, becomes _present_ as it has been around this place. He knows that this is the reason he came back, the reason he lingers. It's like he's been living surrounded by film and it's slowly being stripped away. Feeling uncomfortable, he looks about.

Mumen returns before he can fumble for another subject to think upon. The man waves away his pet, almost tearful when he tries to follow them and Mumen has to feign irritation. It's almost pitiful how fake Mumen's acting is and he supposes the only reason he gets away with it is that he's on the verge of tears and the animal senses his distress. Sonny winds round his legs once more, then trots back to his post.

“Silly boy,” Mumen sniffs.

Saitama chooses not to speak. Then,” What is he?”

“Ah, he's a...sort of lesser dragon mutt.”

“I didn't even know that was a thing!”

They get to talking about dragons, then fishing, then hiking and many, many things as they return to the castle.

When they pass through the door, he remembers he was supposed to look for his armor. Right.

“Where are the other people anyway?”

“Around,” Mumen says at first, then sees Saitama's face,” Ah, well...”

Later, Saitama is wandering through the hallways after parting ways with Mumen and realizes he has no idea where he is going. He has completely forgotten everything the regent told him. Groaning, he ambles around. He goes to the dining hall and finds it empty. Damn.

Oh, wait. Geryuganshoop has eyes all over the place doesn't he?

“HEY WRAITH GUY! HEY GERYUGASHOO!”

He doesn't get an answer, just a wave of annoyance directed towards him and he sighs, sinking against the wall to lie bonelessly against the floor.

It's hopeless.

Oh wait! Genos is magic. He probably knows everything that goes on in the castle so he will probably know where his stuff is because it's also magic. He vaguely remembers someone saying that it was like magnets? Maybe. Who had said that...

Saitama decides to trust himself on this one.

He springs up and makes his way up the stairs to the West Wing. He trots up to it and knocks loudly,” Oi! Genos!”

He repeats this a couple of times, then remembers what Garou had said about Genos never answering. He puts his hand on the knob,” I'm gonna go in the West Wing!”

He turns the knob,” Here I go!”

He pushes the door open and notes how dark it is, much like the hallway behind the portrait. Suppose there is another hidden room,” It's open!”

He waits. He presses inward,” HERE I GO-”

There's an explosive snarl as a metal hand clasps over his wrist and Saitama screeches.

Ah, his ears have popped finally. He lets out a startled laugh,” Don't surprise me like that!”

Genos lets loose a growl like impending thunder with eyes narrowed, then Saitama sees his eyes flick over his appearance,” What. Happened. To. You.”

“I just helped out in the garden.”

Genos's eyes soften and he strides swiftly from the shadow of the West Wing, pulling the door closed behind him,” You've ruined my clothes.”

Saitama wrinkles his nose at that,” They were all I had in my room! That's what I wanted to talk to you about! Someone stole my armor!”

“Did you like the clothes?!” this bursts from Genos suddenly and the beast ducks his head, claws tightening around Saitama's wrist.

Confused, Saitama remarks,” Uh, I guess? That's not important right now! My armor-”

Genos snarls and lets go of Saitama to retreat back to his room, but Saitama grabs his cloak firmly,” Hey. I made that armor myself and it was enchanted by a High Wizard! It's important to me!”

“Well my-I-” Genos flounders for words before he scowls at Saitama, face lined and ugly as sin,” I shall see you later. I...must think.”

“Oh? You'll help?”

Genos grunts, then Saitama lets him scurry into his lair. He feels tense as Genos closes the door and suddenly puts his hand between the door and the frame,” Genos,”

“Yes?” eyes gleam at him like a honey jar held up to sunlight from the darkness. Saitama feels like a bow strung too tight. One wrong pull can snap him so he lets go the door. He doesn't know what to say, his mind a blank parchment unfurling forever.

Genos sighs,” Yes?”

“Sorry. I know that doesn't make up for anything but...y'know... I am.”

“ Thank you.” Genos pulls the door shut and Saitama doesn't stop him.

He manages to get into the eastern wing before the situation hits him,” What the _hell_ was that!?”

He felt like rose thorns were scraping along the inside of his skull, a mix of guilt and apprehension raking though his brains. He groaned.

“I wish I had been there to see Garou drag you through the mud.” Sonic snickered.

He jumped at Sonic's voice and the warlock beckoned him to follow him up the opposite stairs and down an unfamiliar hallway until he smelt the acrid scent of stale smoke. It was a lounge, full of a charred scent that sat heavy in his lungs. The walls were drably decorated with several landscape paintings that lined the pale wall paper. Sonic took a place draped over one of the four armchairs and took out his mirror to stare at. The leather was scuffed every time Sonic moved and Saitama figured that was why it looked so beat up.

“He didn't drag me anywhere. I was helping Mumen.”

“Whatever,” the warlock rolled his eyes,” Watching you and Genos was downright painful, but I said I'd help you and I'm a man of my word. Come here.”

Reluctantly, Saitama took the proffered mirror from Sonic's hands and sat in an armchair next to him. He jerked away when Sonic's cold hands slid over his,” The hell are yo-”

“Scrying. Shut up.”

Grumbling, Saitama relented and Sonic leaned over to clasp his hands, loosely this time, over Saitama's,” Show me my heart's desire.”

Several images rose up onto the glass and Saitama was transfixed. There was a small cabin, affixed with training dummies, a small, striped piglet sleeping before a great fireplace and the image wavered. It rippled like the surface of water and the cabin was barren. It was ripped apart, furniture broken and fireplace empty. The door hung brokenly, allowing dead leaves and brush to tumble in.

“That is the reality of it. Your turn.”

“Er, uh show me my heart's desire?”

The glass went blank, then there was Mumen, at a great basin in a large kitchen, humming and washing the potatoes he had unearthed. Sonic hit him once, twice, thrice before something sprung loose in his hand and he leaped away.

Saitama hadn't felt any of it. The mirror went blank. He repeated the spell as Sonic ran hands over his face and muttered over his twisted hand. Sonic was a toddler in a grown man's body. If you left him to his own devices, he'd just wear himself out.

The mirror remained a regular mirror,” If you're done, it's broken.”

“What!” Sonic rushed over, gently easing the mirror out of Saitama's hands to look at it from every angle before whispering brokenly,” Show me.”

It flickered between the cabin, to the view of a mountainside, then again, Mumen humming, this time peeling the vegetables. Sonic glared at the hunter,” It's your brain that's broken. The mirror does the work for you! How can even this elude you!? It's simple.”

“Explain it.”

“You. Say words. Mirror. Show heart. It's that simple.”

Saitama ground his teeth,” So why doesn't it work?”

Sonic shrugged,” I tried. I pushed some magic at you but it's like...what fencing is to building a house.”

“Huh?”

“They have nothing to do with each other! _That's_ what! You're impervious! Everyone has even the most minute amount of magic! All living things have it!”

“Then why do _you_ have it then if you're undead?” Saitama griped.

Sonic's eyes spun wildly,” I was brought back with it you imbecile!”

“SHUUUUUUUUUUUT UP WILL YA?”

“M-mister Saitama?”

They both turned to see Mumen in the doorway. The regent jumped as both their gazes landed on him,” Uh, breakfast is finished.”

Saitama finished breakfast quickly and was on his way out when Mumen cornered him in the foyer,” Let's go to the crypts.”

“Oh? Alright?” He excused himself to grab his pack, after telling Mumen to go on ahead.

Mumen was practically harping praises as Saitama climbed in first and easily found the door,” Truly, you are exceptional-”

He covered the regent's face with a hand,” Enough.”

They set to work and after Mumen gagged at seeing Psykos's body laid open, he recovered and helped by sicking metal rods from his arm between gears to stop them from spinning.

They managed to wind her all the way back, and Saitama replaced the springs holding the pins to the key.

It was when he turned the key again, that he realized,” This...isn't her key anymore.”

“What?! What do we-”

“I dunno.”

They used a great many keys, even though Saitama knew none of them would work. Somehow, his intuition had been wrong.

The chime rang and they worked past it.

Geryuganshoop suggested that she may be an outlier, so they began work on another person. It was an excuse if Saitama ever heard one, but he wasn't going to refute it the way his frustration was mounting.

After hours of work, it was the same result and though Saitama had nothing better to do, his patience wore thin.

At six o'clock Mumen excused himself to prepare dinner and Saitama was left to ponder why everything was going south. His eyes trailed to Psykos.

Her green eyes stared at nothing.

He was reminded of eyes the color of peridot in a youthful face staring from a frame of writhing green curls and hoped.

He easily plucked the eyes from her head and was surprised that they were heavier than he thought. He set them aside and pulled the pins. He smoothed her metal back into place. He would figure it out eventually.

He ran out the doors, slinging his pack on as he held the eyes securely.

Saitama ran until he saw the frosted doors of the library and yanked them open with a resounding crack, only to have cold air and icy droplets pelt his bare skin. Cursing, he shouted into the dark,” I have eyes!”

The wind stopped.

“Come closer, young hero, so that I may see you.”

As soon as Saitama crossed the threshold, the doors shut behind him. Blindly, he fumbled around before a silken voice purred,” _Illuminate._ ”

She was there, sitting atop one of the dark, cherry wood shelves, illuminated by an almost greenish glow round her upheld palms,” So, you've returned.”

“Don't forget this is a bargain. These eyes for your cooperation, or else I'll have your head, _gorgon_.”

The woman hummed, amused before her prim smile and empty sockets somehow fell on him,” I do not forget.”

She dropped from the shelf, seemed to float down at the last second like a feather before alighting gently upon the marbled floor with a click of claws. She held out her hand, “ Help me won't you _hero_.”

Saitama trounced over and pulled one eye from his pocket. It was a heavy white stone, perhaps a large pearl? He was unsure, but held it against the socket and used his thumbs to push it in before she attempted to grab his wrist. It pulled a wry smile from her,” Gently now. I _am_ a lady.”

“Whatever.” He slotted the eyes in place and she fluttered long lashes over them as they settled and finally fixed him with an emerald glare.

“ _Now you're mine. With thine own gaze, thou hast sealed thy fate._ ”

“Uh, that's flattering and all, but-look you're uh, I'm sure you know, but I can't be involved with a monster-”

“I AM NOT COURTING YOU!” Fubuki groused and Saitama picked at his ear lazily.

“You say such stuff so casually. There's no need to get embarrassed now. Anyway, What can you tell me of the surrounding area? And the curse.”

She fidgeted under his stare,” This is...you are an impossible man.”

Saitama just folded his arms,” We don't have all day.”

“This is the past territory of the great gold dragon-”

“Heard that already. Next.”

She faltered,” Um, Lord Genos is key to-”

“Breaking the curse yeah, but how?”

She faltered, “I...do not know myself.”

Saitama sighed, scratching idly at the back of his head,” Looks like I went through the trouble for nothing.” He points at her face,” I'll let you keep those just 'cause-”

“They're _mine_?” Fubuki bristled.

He avoided that subject easily,” 'Cause your sister helped me out. I mean...this isn't really my kind of fight, but it's interesting. Like a dinner theater mystery.”

She looked baffled,” Like a...?”

He began to explain excitedly what it was before she was snapping defensively,” I KNOW WHAT IT IS!”

Saitama deflated,” Well anything else? I have my own dinner theater thing to do at seven so can you hurry this up?”

“You _dare_ -”

“Yeah? So? What?”

Exasperated, she rubbed at her temples, the metal making a scraping whine against her porcelain and leaving scratches,” We need everyone here who was cursed to break it...um, like a collection of dolls, it needs to be complete. Several knights are missing.”

“Knights?”

“Sir Metal Bat the Undefeated, Sir Royale the Strongest Man Alive, and Sir Metal Knight the Tactician. They have set out on quests and have not returned.”

“Are these real titles or are you making this up to make it sound cool?”

She crosses her arms defensively,” That's what they're called!”

Saitama shrugs, glances at the clock imbedded into her chest and turns around to head out of the library. Fubuki splutters,” Wh-where are you going!?”

“Dinner theater.”

He ran, not even feeling bad when she wailed,” But the CHAIN!”

Saitama ran through the halls, past the paintings of past rulers and ended up in the dining hall. Mumen was there to greet him,” Niceties first, Mister Saitama. Please wear the attire provided.”

Whatever blank look Saitama gave prompted Mumen to sigh,” The gray outfit.”

Saitama looked down at his clothes. The knees were flaked with mud, his nails still had bits of green beneath them, and his shirt was none the better. Sighing, he ran upstairs and changed. It took him sometime to remember how things were supposed to be tucked and layered. As he shrugged on the light vest, he felt the heavy unbalance of the right side, and fished out a pocket watch. It was gold, and already wound. Ordinary, but in this place it would prove useful.

He saw that he was late. Damn.

He ran back to the dining hall fast as his legs could carry him and was greeted with the sight of Genos in a long, dark gray hood embroidered with gold branches and leaves. His face was in deep shadow, the gold of his eyes swallowed up by the black of his sclera somehow. He sat stiffly in the chair, hands loosely gripping the armrests. Saitama waved with a dull,” Yo” before he settled down at the edge of the long bench of the middle table again. He still felt that sitting at the high table was too chummy. Especially so when Genos was the picture of brooding King. He dug his fingers beneath the collar of his fancy shirt, feeling like he was almost choking in the heavy silence. Was he going to get chewed out or what? He felt uncomfortable in these clothes but was sure he had put them on right.

“Good evening teacher. I have reflected on the tale you told and realized there was no fairy to speak of.” Genos droned, the edge of an accusation there, but not digging.

“Haven't gotten there yet. What are you hoping to learn anyway?”

“I have learned much insofar. Please continue your tale. You left me at the gates before the great fountain where you faced down Octoclaw man and your brother was grievously injured.”

“Oh. Right. Not gravely injured, just regular injured, dude. His eye was fine.”

Genos seemed to deflate further,” That is rather anticlimactic teacher.”

“Oh sorry. Did I raise your expectations? These guys were small time anyway. Villains are usually guys with way too much time on their hands. Anyway...”

Saitama was shit at storytelling, but he felt he had gotten the hang of it, though Genos had to prompt him to speak over and over.

“Then he was dead.”

“Yes, but how!?”

“I hit him.”

“But how, when he could see you coming at every angle!”

“Just had to be quicker. I dunno.”

Genos impatiently pulled the answers he desired like teeth. He picked away and squeezed information from Saitama like a vice, though Saitama didn't see the use in it. To him the fights were all the same, but to Genos, each was a feat of the impossible. Genos was again enraptured in Saitama's attempts at the heroic and was buzzing with energy. From somewhere, the boy had pulled an ink pot and quill and was furiously writing on parchment things Saitama had said. It really did feel more of a lecture that way and had Saitama sweating,” Do you really have to take notes?”

“I have decided you should have a chronicler.”

“Ah. That...I don't...”

Saitama reluctantly told Genos of the man, Furher Ugly that guarded the Fountain of Life and he had punched him. He told him of the Fairy King who had sequestered himself away from that ugly sight, too horrified by such ugliness he would freeze upon seeing him. Amai was a vain, simmering thing that begrudgingly healed his brother's wounds in exchange for Saitama sealing the fountain away with a great stone.

“You left it!?”

“We brought down the whole mountain on it. The things its magic touched lived forever in twilight, neither awake nor dreaming. There were a great many monsters made from the thing. It was...creepy. Ancient magic always is. You end up paying three times its worth.”

“It's eternal life!”

Saitama snorted,” Yes. At the expense of what makes it enjoyable you might as well-” he stopped himself. He had made sure not to drink any of the water or eat any plants in the grove, but maybe somehow he had been affected? He shook off the ridiculous thought. No, this padded life had begun long before that and yet he was still grasping at some explanation.

What had he lost? To make him feel this way? Or rather, struggle to feel at all?

“Master? Would you like to stop here?”

Saitama nodded in relief, seizing the opportunity and suddenly, there was a plate of food before him. He dug into a meal of roast potato and a meat he recognized as the weasel-like lesser dragons.

“There are so many dragon-y things around here,” he muttered.

“Ah that is a result of-” he was surprised Genos was still there, but the gold had returned to is eyes and he talked animatedly of the great gold dragon of the past.

It was at one point, Saitama had to stop him,” THEY THREW THE CUP OF DRAGON BLOOD IN THE WATER?!”

“Yes?”

Saitama had Genos confirm that the fountain was ancient and now he was certain that that was why this place had an amplifying power. The veins of that contaminated water had spread throughout the land, sinking into it the power of freely given dragon blood. If you took it, it held limited properties. If it was given, Saitama didn't really understand why, but magic creatures were particularly finicky about permission and decorum.

What had the Mad Wizard been after? He knew that they said it was a second attack by the Mad Wizard, but was it really?

This seemed a far step up from the massacres Genos had told him he had tracked for years. It was calculated, unlike the seemingly indiscriminate violence Genos had described. This wasn't destructive magic, it was a curse, too. One that involved a bargain with Death.

Saitama hummed, arms folded and let his head fall to the side with a sigh. It was useless. His thoughts were jumpy and disconnected, unable to focus on the bigger picture. He couldn't connect the dots so easily like that with this hare-brained theory made of so little information.

“Master? What is the significance of that?”

Saitama looked at the kid, saw that he indeed was wearing that intense glare, wasn't joking one bit and explained,” I'm no expert on magic stuff, but that explains why this place is so...”

It thrummed. His ears rang sometimes when there weren't even spells going off, at least to his knowledge. He was dreaming again. He was able to cast his fire spell with a perfect success rate so far, though he was no more skilled at it. There were watchers all about and he could _feel_ them. The place drew lesser dragons but warded off bigger predators and it seemed all creatures that possessed magic took on the traits of the greater dragon of legend whose blood had been spilled.

He explained these things as best he could and Genos's face suddenly went dark,” Are you saying...that this may be why we were targeted?”

Saitama rubbed at the back of his neck,” Maybe.”

“I...perhaps I have been studying the wrong type of magic then...” Genos began muttering to himself lowly, hand at his chin as his face scrunched into a fearsome grimace that was particularly beastly.

Genos stood, cape billowing out as he stepped from his chair,” Of course.”

Before he could disappear Saitama stood too,” Hey uh, do you know where you sent your knights on quests to?”

Genos stilled,” What?”

“Your knights? They went missing?”

“They...they have?”

“You're not serious are you?”

Almost defensively, Genos lifted his horned head high within the confines of his gray hood,” I am. I did not send them to quest.”

“They didn't say anything?”

Genos averted his eyes,” I let them do as they wish. Especially since this is the last year...We can not go far. At noon, the sun freezes us until midnight.”

“Mumen didn't send them to task either?”

“Not to my knowledge. Why?”

“Apparently we need everyone that was cursed to be here to lift it.”

Genos's eyes narrow,” Then we must set off at midnight.”

“What?! No! We don't even know where they are!”

“Let us go from here.” Genos was different now, eyes lively and shining. He swept forward confidently, shoulders back and tore down his hood. The kid definitely had selective hearing, but Saitama uncertainly trailed behind him. Genos briskly walked through the hallway of paintings, threw open the door and roared,”SONIC! GAROU!”

They waited, Genos impatiently huffing and Saitama broke the silence,” Why do we need them?”

“Sonic can move in daylight for some unfathomable reason and Garou calls himself hero hunter. It is time they pay back my hospitality.”

Saitama quietly thought it was more the regent's hospitality, but said nothing. Then, it suddenly hit him that Sonic had been freely walking about when they gardened. He had expected Saitama to let him in, but even if he could walk about freely, he could not leave past noon alone or else Mumen would be a victim to the curse. He bit his lip, then,” Hey I think Sonic should stay here.”

“You don't trust my judgment? He is a detestable sort but-”

He was unsure of what to say to Genos. Did he know Sonic was a warlock? He obviously didn't know about the shared key. 

Suddenly, the man himself was before them sneering,” What.”

“You're going hunting.”

Sonic was nearly purring,” The game?”

“My knights are missing.”

Sonic deflated,” I refuse.”

“You think this is a choice?” the king seethed and Sonic's eyes spun wildly.

“Go.” Saitama jumped at Mumen's voice and they turned to the copper regent coming from the hallway behind them as he intoned,” Go, if they need you.”

Sonic took a step toward him, shifted his weight to the other leg, crossed his arms, then “ You need me more.”

The regent frowned deeply,” Need? No, but Lord Genos, I request to go as well. I lend my sword.”

“What's all this then?”

Genos turned to Garou who descended the stair,” You know where Badd is or at least some idea, I imagine.”

The hero hunter stiffened,” Oh, now you care?”

Genos snarled,” Are you in or out.”

Garou grinned wide,” You think I'd give away this opportunity to show you up? You're mistaken.”

“Wait! I don't even have my armor!”

Genos turned to the warlock and nodded and the man was gone and back in a blink. Saitama was so angry, he could have punched him, but was sure to knock him off his feet when he snatched away his armor,” YOU TRAITOR!”

Saitama began to strip down, pulling on his armor at long last. Mumen yelped and turned away to the warlock and hero hunter's snickering.

“Teacher.”

“You're in trouble too you brat-uh?!”

Genos laid a clawed hand against his cheek and Saitama shivered from the metal fingers that felt like ice on his skin. He looked up, staggering backwards and speechless. Genos's eyes seemed to glow brighter like twin lamps in the depths of a starless sky,” _Return to me._ ”

Saitama tore his eyes away, face heated and Genos was gone. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he think he would just run away? Is that the kind of man Genos saw him as?

“Well,” Sonic said gleefully,” Let's go kill something!”

“Th-this is a _rescue_ mission!” Mumen yelped, but Garou was already on the heels of Sonic's blood-lust.

“Maybe I'll find worthy prey for drawing out my strength!”

“Whatever. I'm making a pit stop.”

He strode forward, and the warlock, hero hunter, and lord regent followed suit. Saitama couldn't help but feel a minute glimmer of excitement. No matter how you looked at it...He glanced behind him to see one manic grin, a confident smirk and a nervous smile.

“This is a band of merry fellows!”

“HUUH?!” Mumen screeched. Garou was beyond words, brows drawn in disbelief over his narrowed eyes. Sonic's grin disappeared.

Maybe this would be the fun to break the monotony of the castle interior and maybe they would find any of the missing knights and maybe he would have a more exciting tale for Genos upon his return.

Maybe.

His heart was almost beating to where he could feel it. Rescuing someone? This was the work of heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have internet for a while so I've been typing away.  
> Next chapter is long and I still have to proofread it, so sorry, sorry.  
> I always end up seeing a million typos after I post it anyway so to what end, I ask do I even bother.


	8. Found

The clock struck midnight and Saitama roused himself from bed feeling more awake than ever despite the fact he had slept a mere four hours. He had been too excited to sleep, especially with the harpy's map tucked safely into his pack.

He belted and tied himself into his armor, secured his cape and leaped from the window to the ground below. The night air was cool and a light breeze pulled at his cape. The clock chimed in tones low, and mellow, echoing over the waving grass and into the silent woods. It was not long before the other men met him at the fountain.

Mumen was much the same, in a pressed shirt and trousers, except a bronze short-sword was belted to his hip. Sonic walked in front of him, almost strutting and face hidden behind his mask. He was also wearing a leather belt that Saitama had not seen before, but he guessed that it held the mirror. A long sword he had no name for was at his back. Garou was sitting at the fountain suddenly when Saitama turned around.

“We're all here. I think we should decide on monikers, since were a team! Maybe colors or-”

“I refuse to be lumped in with you lot, I'm here to kill.”

Mumen looked at Sonic worriedly,” Um, we already know one another's names, wouldn't that make it more complicated than it should be?”

“Are we going or not!? What the hell kind of nonsense are you muttering!?”

Saitama wondered if it were too late to go back to sleep. He pulled out the map and Mumen used a light spell,” Dude liked to train in the mountains right? Should we stop there?”

Garou snarled,” That would be a week's journey, and it's uncertain if he is there to begin with. I know that was where he was headed, but...”

The teenager ran a hand along his spiked hair to grin pointedly at Sonic,” If ya let me look in that mirror of yours, we'd know exactly where.”

Sonic was undeterred,” What mirror? Just scry in the fountain if you want.”

The air had changed, as the metal men suddenly lunged at one another, grins wide, manic as the sound of iron meeting steel rang out. Mumen drew his sword, but obviously could not see them with how fast they moved. Saitama considered letting them fight it out, but he saw the younger man's movements.

It was martial arts, using mostly his hands. The side of the long index finger pressed lightly to the pad of the thumb. The other fingers were grouped close and Saitama held his fingers the same way, palm down to try and jog his memory. The teen's arm movements circled in waves much like a river's current. Yielding when needed, straightforward when not. Then. Like a snake launching from the coil, all of his body went still like stone upon impact. Like the undercurrent pulling down to dash bones into an unforgiving river bed.

He opened his mouth to accuse Garou of being that one guy, but he could not remember the name of the fighting art. It definitely had to do with water...and standing still? He didn't really remember the old man's name too well either.

While Saitama was trying his best to recall the name, Sonic was jumping about like a flea.

“You can't hit what you can't catch!”

“I'm just getting warmed up, warlock!”

Ah, forget it,” I spent like a week in the Halls of Fang and I just can't remember at all!”

Garou was momentarily distracted enough to be hit by one of Sonic's twirling kicks before the warlock's ankle was caught and he was pelted with sinuous jabs that grounded him hard.

“You're not even in top form and you thought you could win? Big mistake, assassin.”

“DIE YOU COCKY BRAT-”

Mumen darted between them and Saitama punched the air in front of them to send them sprawling before they could do the regent harm,” Sonic, just let the guy peek at the mirror already! This team up idea sucks!”

Sonic sprang up, then was suddenly before Saitama, seething,” You go back on your word so easily hero!”

“I didn't say hand it over!”

“What a strange technique,” Garou barked viciously,” Maybe my hunt should start _here_.”

Mumen stood between them again, screaming,” ENOUGH! We are wasting the night away with petty pissing contests! Neither of you can face each other the way we are now! This isn't even a modicum of what you were capable of! Our bodies...this is the last year, do not forget. And how could you? Do you not feel the way our cogs lurch and pull when once they spun smoothly? Do you not have your limbs stick and grind every time you move? _This is our chance of fighting back! Do not waste it with childish squabbles!_ ”

All was silent but the whispering of the wind and the quiet stream of the fountain until Mumen held out his hand,” Sonic. The mirror. Saitama will hold it and Garou shalt lay a single finger upon it and evoke our path. Fair?”

Sonic was still, then hissed icily, brandishing his odd, one-sided blade,” One more finger and it shall be lopped off with your head, _hero hunter_.”

Garou's eyes narrowed, but he stepped forward. Saitama pried the mirror from Sonic's clutching fingers before he let Garou touch it.

The boy merely sighed before an image appeared on the glass.

There was a tin automaton with a fearsome scowl, eyes closed as if in sleep. His sculpted hair was gathered oddly at the front and slicked back giving his bangs an odd dome-shape. He was sitting at a window, chin in hand. The sill was made of white stone and Saitama could discern nothing of the sky because it was overcast.

Garou pulled away, eyes like dying, yellow stars,” I see you... We must head to the northeast. Toward the mountains.”

Saitama nods, lifting a hand to the sky, fitting two stars of the Lady constellation against his forefinger and spreading his middle finger away to find the always dim Skyrot,” There.”

Garou looked in that direction, then stood up tall and talked to the rest of them,” This, is where we part.”

Garou made a mad dash out of the charred ruins of Gildreth then, white pants getting marked with the soot he kicked up. Sonic snatched the mirror from Saitama's hands and snarled,” Grab Mumen!” before taking off right after him.

This band of merry fellows thing was better left for the tall tales, Saitama grumbled to himself as he hoisted the regent onto his shoulder and ignored his squawk of protest.

They ran for a long time. Mumen jangled like a key ring on his shoulder as he kept a few paces behind Sonic, who let Garou have the lead. The teenager was not nearly fast enough to outrun the both of them.

The land surrounding Gildreth was dry woods. The trees stretched far overhead and Saitama noted, for the very first time that the leaves of those taller trees grew wildly, but did not touch, leaving an unhindered view of the sky. The grass was tall when they came upon clearings, the bushes were all covered in brambles. Saitama noted that there were smaller versions of the mushrooms that made the mushroom house of the Wizard Kuseno and found himself saying so.

With a chattering jaw, Mumen said,” You met him? How is he?”

“Old?”

Mumen laughed and let it drop so that he could clench his jaw to keep it from chattering.

They ran over slopes of trees, across a small, shallow stream and the sun steadily climbed. Seeing this, Garou made a mad dash, trying to throw them off, but Saitama and Sonic were much faster. 

The sun pulled directly overhead and without warning, Garou keeled over, pitched by his momentum face first into the dirt at the foot of a tree. Mumen went still on Saitama's shoulder and Sonic turned to him,” I don't like the idea of wasting time waiting here. Throw that idiot down and help me pull this one out of the ground.”

He had never pegged Sonic as the leader type, so he somewhat begrudgingly sets Mumen down and helps Sonic turn the teenager over. Sonic proceeds to berate him,” Where did you think you were going anyway? You think you're faster than me you punk? I knew you were cocky, but I didn't think you were a goddamn idiot. Genos sent a hunting party for a reason. Call that emotionally constipated automaton whatever you want but...when he plans things out for others, he is more rational than he is with himself.”

Saitama takes this in for a moment,” This...this is a quest. Are we...knights? Right now?”

The look Sonic gives him is withering despite his mask, because of the sudden droop of his shoulders, the irate sigh, the roll of his coin eyes before he barks out,” Are you an idiot?”

Saitama just stares and Sonic makes to grab at his throat, but seems to think better of it, hands curling into shaking fists,” Genos announced you as his champion. As his champion, it is your job to uphold his name by fighting his battles. Obviously.”

“You just described a knight.”

Sonic flies into a rage, clawing at his own head in frustration. Huffing and puffing unnecessarily, he growls,” Knights are born into it. Champions are chosen with favor you goddamn imbecile. How have you managed to not choke on the very air you breathe, you absolute fool.”

Saitama's eyes narrow,” Take it easy, it was just a question.”

Sonic sinks down onto his haunches,”This seems to be a trial. Royalty fancy shit like this.”

The warlock almost sounds wistful, but Saitama doesn't care enough to pursue that thought and asks,” How much further, do you think?”

Sonic's gaze flicks over to Garou,” I don't know this area. We just have to follow our bloodhound here and-ah.”

Sonic pulls the mirror from his pack and sets it on Garou's chest,” _The secret. Unveil it._ ”

After a long while of staring at the blank mirror, Sonic stands to tuck the mirror away, then slings Garou over his shoulder,” Show me that harpy's map.”

Somehow, when Saitama rolls the map out, Sonic snatches his compass from his hand and is able to pinpoint where they are. From there, Saitama looks at the natural land marks and it is slower going in the day, but they're soon taking off.

Saitama throws Mumen over his shoulder, finding he is stiff and blanches. He feels like a dead weight. He arranges the other man's limbs more comfortably, and then he is keeping pace with Sonic. They race toward the mountains. It's when they're wading through the shallows of a river, that Sonic looses his footing. The both of them, Sonic and Garou sink like stones like Saitama's heart. Quickly, he shoulders Mumen, arm clutching his legs to his chest and bends his knees with Mumen acting as a counterweight to grab up Sonic by a slat beneath his ribs.

Saitama curses when he realizes that there was no slat, he has dug it into him with his fingers, punching a hole in the metal. Knowing they don't actually have to breathe makes it easier, and he drags them all to the river bank, only then noting that Sonic has been clawing at his arm.

He drops him onto the wet, muddy bank and dredges up Garou, who's eyes are open now and staring at nothing. It's unsettling seeing someone so quick to anger so still.

Sonic pulls himself up, legs locked straight and dragging behind him before he manages to turn himself over. He mutters a string of curses, unscrewing bolts in his legs before tossing them into his belt, then taking apart the panels of his legs.

“What's wrong?” Saitama says, but Sonic hisses him quiet and fiddles with the gears. He unbolts them, rearranges them, moves the struts manually until he huffs in frustration before stripping the paneling from his thighs and begins messing with the metal there. It is almost a half hour before the cogs will spin of their own volition and Sonic lets out a shuddering breath and a curse.

“My legs locked up is all.” Sonic says and then they're moving again, though slowly this time as they climb the steep bank. 

After a long while of hiking through the woods, Saitama asks,” How are you able to move at all? In the afternoon, I mean.”

Sonic scoffs at him,”Having an affinity for the same type of magic that has cursed us, gives me a bit more leeway.” He speaks smugly,” It's something only I can do.”

Saitama hums,” I was fiddling with the gears of that woman, Psykos...The lock seems to change midway through spinning her gears and they lurch forward without waking her.”

“You're trying to _wake_ people? That's what you have been up to?”

“Any ideas? Since this is your whatever?”

Sonic hums,” If the lock changes then you need another key idiot. What else would it mean?”

“Obviously!” Saitama huffs, and nearly shouts,” If I tried to change the key, the gears will just go back the way they were though!”

He must have Sonic stumped because he says nothing as they follow a well-worn deer trail. It's then that he realizes he is hungry and that,” GODDAMN IT!”

Sonic startles, looking at him curiously as he rips open his pack. Everything must be soaked! Except that when he opens it, nothing is.

Looks like his armor wasn't the only thing Kuseno enchanted. He pulls out one of the spherical wafers and bites into it with fervor, then drops it into the pack.

It's when they walk into a clearing that Sonic startles him out of his not-thoughts,” Maybe if not the key, then it's the hands turning it.”

“What do you mean, warlock?”

“Maybe you're not the one that should be turning the key then?” he says it slowly so that Saitama is sure to understand along with a rearrangement of his thoughts and Saitama is a little irritated that Sonic is doing it despite the way it helps.

“Why should that matter? It's just a wind-up thing right?”

Sonic snorts,” On an ordinary machine or automaton you would be right.”

“Magic is stupid.” Saitama says and Sonic nods.

The sun has begun it's slow descent to rest beneath the ground and Saitama wonders sleepily if he walked all the way to the edge of the earth if he could reach it. He seems to have voiced this thought aloud because Sonic snickers,” Are you dead on your feet? We should make camp for a few hours.”

He shakes his head. Of course the earth is round.

The trees are lit on one side in the bright orange of the the sunset and he watches as that light gets whittled down to mere toothpicks and then, when they are in twilight he agrees and they settle down. Saitama builds a fire, then sets Mumen down against a tree and readies his bedroll to lay down to sleep.

He jerks awake to Sonic plopping down on his chest like an overgrown cat, but can only wheeze in surprise as the air is pushed out of his lungs. He finds Sonic's eyes like two stars burning holes into the night and the warlock's voice is uncharacteristically soft,” This knife would break against your neck.”

Saitama feels the cold of the blade against his neck and nods stiffly, disoriented by the way his eyes aren't adjusting and one of the stars drops just a fraction. Sonic seems to have tilted his head, leaning close,” _Why._ ”

“I don't know.”

“Here you are in the middle of nowhere. You can say you came to Gildreth on a rumor, because some Gorgon told you there was a monster. People don't intend to be here, they just _end up here_. That kind of strength, you could do anything. If I were you, I would be capitalizing on it, but here you are. Two outfits. Some armor. Limited rations and what little wits you possess, if _any_. You are actually a very simple man Saitama. Simple minded. This problem requires some heavy thinking and you are not capable of doing this without help and yet you stay. Why.”

Saitama doesn't know.

“A...” Sonic stills. He sits up, voice wavering and unlike the harsh, biting cold of his normal voice,” A terrible fate has befallen you. Hasn't it, hero?”

Before Saitama can shove him off, Sonic is standing. He can hear the winding of the key and Mumen's hiss of,” _Hurry_!”

The fire has died, but the light of the moon reveals Garou, stumbling away as he sticks a key in his chest and starts winding.

Saitama scrambles from his sleeping bag, shoving it in his pack hurriedly as Sonic winds up Mumen. Soon they are chasing Garou through the dark.

“Garou! Will y-ou w-wait!” Mumen shouts over Saitama's shoulder. Sonic is yelling too,” YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE US LOSE OUR WAY IN THE WOODS AND I WILL KILL YOU!”

Sonic is right. The way they're moving makes the trees block Saitama's view of the sky. There is no constellation to guide them and he yells that. Garou doesn't stop or so much as look back. They follow him blindly, eyes trained on the gleaming silver in the dark until the sun peeks over the horizon. In the gray light of the dawn, Garou breaks out of the line of trees and changes.

Saitama recognizes him. The twin, curved horns, the fissures all over his body. It was that monster!

“Hey! You were that one guy! You're _that_ Garou! Did you figure out what you wanted to do? It sounds like you've been doing the same thing over again!”

Garou stops. His voice is tinny and crackles like static,” What?”

The creature scoffs,” I don't have time for this! You call yourself monster hunter? Just try and stop me!”

The monster makes its way across the wide expanse of hills and in the light, Saitama sees the large white spire jutting from the base of one to reach the sky.

It's a tower.

Sonic whistled,” White stonework. It's gotta be a witch's doing.”

Saitama looks back at them in disbelief,” You don't seem very surprised that he's a monster.”

“We've seen it.” Mumen says, then his jaw drops open,” Look!”

Saitama turns in time to see Garou's dark figure scrabble up the tower. He climbs and climbs, before he reaches a window at the top. He tries to climb in, but there's a flash of red and a ring of metal on metal, before the creature falls back, regains his footing, then leaps inside the tower.

Saitama and the other men are already running up to it. Saitama and Sonic reach the tower, the latter and Mumen climbing up with the footholds Garou made in the stone.

Saitama cranes his head up, circles the tower a bit until he's directly under the window, and leaps. Mumen's startled shout faces away just as suddenly as it starts and he watches the stone whip by until he's looking down on the tower.

“Over shot it,” Saitama sighs. He gets a vague swoop in his gut as he falls. He waits until he sees the window and as he zips by, he grabs the sill, tempering his strength so that he doesn't crush it. He lets himself fall down until he's hanging from it, then pulls himself up and into the small room.

He doesn't get a good look at the room before he has to dodge the swing of a cudgel. There's the tin clockwork man they saw in the mirror, pulling back in surprise. His features are lined into a fierce scowl with a lot of teeth. His red shirt is of a bright red and hanging off of him in tatters. His hair is sculpted up, away from his face, and something about his ferocity is familiar to Saitama.

“Who the hell are you!?” the young man spits,” First Garou comes barreling in here an' then ya just-”

Saitama glances around the small room, seeing a wooden chair by the window, a large mirror on the opposite wall before Garou lunges at him. He catches his hands easily, and the monster snarls,” I can do this myself!”

Before Saitama can question him the other young man steps forward,” Give it a rest ya bonehead! I'm the one who's s'posed t'be emotional right now! Hell, I been here for months!”

Saitama lets go of the human monster's hands so that the creature can stalk over to the mirror. The other man steps forward,” Looks like we're all stuck here so might's well introduce myself. I'm Badd a Knight of the Gilded. And you?”

“Saitama. Anyway, what do you mean we're stuck?”

The knight sighs jabbing a hand to the window,” Y'can't leave that way. You'll just...Just try it. Easier that way.”

Garou's hands scrabble over the mirror as he scoffs,” Not the first time words elude you, simpleton.”

“Oh shut up!”

Saitama goes to clamber onto the sill, but somehow finds himself in the chair by the window. Puzzled, he tries again, he manages to stand in the tall window, but when he steps off the ledge, when he gets a sight of the ground below, he blinks and is sitting once more.

He clambers onto the sill again, but this time turns back to Bad,” Push me out this...time.”

The room is empty.

He turns back to the sight outside of the window and as he shifts, he finds himself shifting his sitting position in the chair.

Badd huffs at his right,” You've been sitting there for like twenty minutes.”

Saitama stands,” How?!”

“If I knew, I'd do something!”

Garou has returned to his natural form and is pacing in front of the mirror,” How did you even get up here?”

Sir Bad sighs,” Uh, about that...I was just checking out the perimeter you know? Like seeing how far I could go when I hear this strumpet singin' 'Who's the fairest?' over and over. Anybody would'a said 'Tis you!' I-stop laughing bastard!”

Garou snickered, grin wolfish as he looked at Bad,” And then?”

Badd scowls,” And then she throws this loooooong plait of sea foam colored tresses down like a rope-no, I'm not jokin'! An' I climb. I got up here and then she vanished!”

Garou snorts and Bad seizes up, lunging at him to drag him up by his dark shirt,” What's so funny huh?”

Garou's yellow eyes gleam for a moment. He tenses, hands balling into fists, before he decides to think better of it and the tension rolls off him in a dismissive shrug,” Sounds typical of you is all. Took you long enough to get up here you damn gargoyle.”

Saitama looks back at Garou's jibe, and sees Sonic perched on the sill, climbing in silently, grinning mask making it impossible to tell what he thinks as his coin eyes flit over everything in the room before he says,” You've really done it this time.”

At that Mumen clambers over the sill and can't seem to get up beyond a crouch from how his legs shake. He notes Bad's presence with a wobbly grin,” Sir Bad! So this is where you have been? How do you fare?”

Bad drops to a knee, metal clanging against stone,” Er, well enough m'lord. I'm afraid you're trapped like the rest of u-HEY! Watch where yer-”

Sonic shoves the knight aside and his hands scrabble at the mirror. Saitama steps forward to examine it for the first time. It's a tall body length mirror the size of a door. He watches Sonic run hands over the silver leaves and flowers that line the square pane and after a long moment, Sonic steps away to sit in the chair.

“Well?! What is it?!”

“Shut up, I'm thinking.” Sonic says lowly, then does not stir.

Saitama looks into the mirror. He sees Mumen talking quietly to Bad behind him, Garou pacing madly and unsurprisingly, the chair Sonic should be sitting in is empty. He lets his eyes settle on himself and aware of the other people in the room, resists running a gloved hand over his bare scalp. He doesn't like his reflection. He knows he isn't the most handsome man despite his strong jaw and physical strength. His eyes are round but hooded. Instead of this making them intense, he just looks dull, bored. At least with hair he could let it fall over them a bit. Instead, everything is laid bare.

He hums, tracing a gilded leaf on the side of the mirror.

What had Sir Metal Bat said?

“Who's the fairest?” Saitama said quietly and the mirror shuddered beneath his touch. He found himself softly asking again,” Who? Who? Show me.”

It looked like turpentine had been spilled across the reflection like a painting. Colors bled together and were stripped away to reveal a deep gloom. Saitama almost asked again before he saw a spark and a flame. In the yellow light, gold features gleamed and Saitama stilled. The flame was touched to a candle, and he watched as the gnarled gold arm lifted to hold the candle to other sconces. The boy's face was lost in the depth of his hood when he sat at a desk. Tomes of all sizes sat on it, some opened across the desk and leaving him with little room to write. The cloaked figure pulled off his cloak and Saitama saw the sleeveless brocade pulled tight over metal. He noted the sleeves were ripped off, to reveal the swell of broad shoulders. He noted the way the brocade was tailored in the back much like a swallow's tail to reveal a triangle of golden back that was studded with delicate little spines protruding from his lower back all down to the tip of his spaded tail that caught the dark cloak and folded it over the back of the desk chair. Saitama's eyes ripped up to the small waist, the broad shoulders again, to the expanse of brushed black metal at the throat, the golden chords that lined his neck to the sharp jaw, the scraggly mouth full of black, jutting fangs, the ugly permanent gargoyle scowl and heavy brow. The light caught his eyes.

They were twin pools of amber, of honey, of a flame lit topaz amid the midnight black of his sclera.

Saitama tore his gaze away, burned right to his core. He shut his eyes against the visage, feeling blinded by how brightly the Gilded Beast gleamed in the firelight.

How Genos looked.

Heart pounding, he couldn't resist looking again. He had always been fascinated by the delicate machinery of Genos's figure. The wild sculpt of golden hair and the broad black curl of his horns through it all. Dread in his heart, he looked again.

His gloved hands scrabbled across the mirror as he looked upon his own plain visage. Scowling, he very _nearly_ asked again.

The words were right there like live coals searing his mouth, ready to be spat out, but he swallowed them. It burned his throat raw right down into the very pit of his gut and it watered his eyes to not say it. He thought of the way Genos hugged his cloak to his frame and constantly hid in it and found another reason to keep silent. Shame tunneled through his very bones and festered.

He felt the ghost of a chilled metal hand to his jaw and a wisp of a deep voice.

_Return to me._

He shuddered.

Feeling a bit sick, he knew he would and felt stupid. He had always been a bit dense, a bit of a fool, but that had only ever been an advantage.

Perhaps he was lucky having not encountered a princess in distress if this was how saving a _king_ felt. 

“Saitama!”

He startled, turning to his company and found that they were staring at him. Sonic was standing, hands playing at his half drawn sword, Garou was crouched low, a dark energy crackling at his blackened fingertips, Mumen's hands were up in a placating gesture towards him, mouth a grim line, and Sir Metal Bat had his cudgel in hand, tapping it against a metal shoulder. All their gears were spinning wildly at their joints and jaws and Saitama felt he was in a toy shop with all the mechanical whirring, despite the severity of their mood.

“What.”

Mumen spluttered,” You were staring at the mirror as if enchanted!”

“We thought you'd fallen in love with yerself or something!”

Sonic's eyes narrowed,” What did you see?”

Saitama rubbed at the back of his neck, fighting the way his heart stuttered staccato in his chest,” Um, my uh, well.”

He was never a liar, but he couldn't very well say that he had been staring at Genos. He realized that whoever lived here was magic and went cold.

Had they been watching Genos as well?

“It was the West Wing of the castle.”

It was an almost truth that would tell how dangerous the mirror was, without telling too much of himself. His reluctance to speak could simply be that he was forbidden from the West Wing. His fixation could be explained with a fascination with what was forbidden him.

So long as they implied these things and he didn't have to lie about them, they would be none the wiser. He tried to be none the wiser himself, not touching upon the fact he had to hide this at all.

“What!” they all yelped.

Sonic's eyes narrowed, but other than that, his face was unreadable and Saitama avoided eye contact as he broke out in a cold sweat.

Mumen's hands scrabbled at his copper hair, scraping unpleasantly,” Someone's been keeping an eye on us!?”

Bad hissed,” That means that sea foam wench was a goddamn witch!”

“Sea foam?”

“Her hair! It was the color of-why are you-”

Mumen seized the young knight's shoulder to demand,” What did she look like?”

Shocked, the knight stuttered,” Um, long, wavy hair in a plait. White clothes, nice bod-um, very fair. An older woman. Like uh, older than me but like maybe your age? She had these eyeglasses and-”

“What color were her eyes?”

“Blue? Like a sea green. That blueish-green but like light in color?”

“Psykos.” Mumen spat and the other men looked stricken.

“You mean...that woman we've been trying to revive at the castle?”

“The very same,” Mumen muttered,” She's a witch. She and Fubuki were close but...after Fubuki's attempt to take over she didn't accept the outcome and fled. She was rather...unhinged, but always kind...So she's been here.”

“ _Was_ here.” Sonic corrected,” If she's a witch that helps me though.”

The darkling creature trotted forward, motioning Saitama to step aside and his jaw dropped as he stepped right through the mirror!

“What in hell!?” Metal Bat yelped and Sonic poked his head from the mirror, eyes spinning.

“Well? Come on then. I fixed it.”

He sank into the mirror again. Mumen followed right after Garou, who dragged the whining knight through.

“I can't believe a door was there whole time! DAMN IT.”

Saitama was left last, staring at the tall mirror. The words were at his lips like embers, sparking at his lips. He clamped his mouth shut with his eyes and stepped through the mirror.


	9. Lost

When he opened his eyes again the other men were walking down a curved staircase. Sonic held his hand aloft, a weak starlight in his palm. It cast just enough light to illuminate the stairs. Mumen's light-made butterfly flitted about, but cast just as much light in the gloom. Walking a bit behind Garou, Saitama noted that the knight and regent had the heaviest footsteps. Despite being made of metal, Sonic and Garou managed silence that was almost eerie.

As a hunter and as a person who constantly kept temperance of his strength, it was odd seeing that others were capable of the same things he was and that sparked something in him. He wondered what Garou and Sonic could fight like at full strength. It wasn't wise to fight for the sake of fighting, but he had to admit it held his interest for a moment.

If he restored their humanity, maybe he would have something to look forward to.

“I wonder how Psykos came to be there even though her body is elsewhere.” Mumen said after a time.

Saitama got the feeling that he was talking just for something to do.

He thought no one would answer the regent's query before Sonic spoke,” She is dream walking perhaps.”

“Of course the goddamn boy-witch would know,”Bad hisses. 

“Ah, and who was fooled because he knew nothing? Hm.” Sonic jeered and Garou yanked him back before he could lift his cudgel. They went on with a derisive snicker from Sonic.

After the seventh or eighth loop, Saitama had a general idea of how close they were to the ground. He fell to the back of the pack at the ninth loop,” I'm going to make a way out. Go on ahead.”

Sonic nodded, but Metal Bat pushed forward,” What do you mean!?”

“Just do it,” Mumen and Sonic said, then left. Garou eyed him warily, his eyes two pinpricks of gold before he followed the grumbling knight into the dark.

Shrugging, Saitama walked down ten more steps, felt a bit off, then took four more. He took two more steps. He felt along the stone wall, trailing hands along the smooth stone. Humming to himself, he took five more steps, letting his footfalls echo down to his company. He took another step, but his hand pressed fast to the wall. Saitama was reminded of passing by bookshelves, intending to grab a certain book quickly, but missing his grip and having to stop and do it properly.

He retreated a step and punched through the wall. The sound of his blow rumbled through the stairway like thunder and he coughed as dust clouded the air. He squinted his eyes against the bright sunlight that tried to blind him. Like pots and pans being thrown, the other men rushed to his side.

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Metal Bat yelped.

Saitama brushed rubble from his cape and noted his guesswork was a bit off. The hole was made a bit above ground and he had to step up and stoop a bit to step out onto the grass. It was nice to be out of the dark. It was a bit stuffy, especially with a bunch of dudes crowding the stairwell.

“Wh-”

Saitama turned and saw Metal Bat frozen outside of the door way.

The sun was over head.

How long had they been walking? It had been full dark, and now...Wait, the automaton-people could move within the tower walls despite the daylight.

His brow furrowed, until the answer hit him like a physical blow,” This is part of the castle.”

Garou dragged the knight back into the stairwell hissing,” What.”

“It's noon. You can move inside the castle but not outside of it right?”

In the silence, Saitama used his cape to wipe grit from his bald head and pebbles from his neck.

“Dear God.” Mumen whispered,” Does this stairway lead to there then?”

“Only one way to find out,” Garou said and they looked to Saitama.

Frowning, Saitama said,” Go on without me. I'm gonna catch my breath.”

Shrugging, Garou and Bad continue on, but Mumen and Sonic stared at him, eyes and lenses gleaming in the dark.

“Hey! A little _light_ please?!” Metal Bat shouts and Mumen hurries to catch up.

“Who did you see. In the mirror. Garou said you asked it who the fairest was before you became enamored with it.”

Saitama wishes he could pull his hood over his head without looking guilty,” Um. It was really dark and-”

“Liar. Only one person goes in the West Wing.”

Sonic melts into the darkness of the stairwell pit and Saitama's stomach seems to draw all the blood from his face into it to sink low in his gut.

They know.

None of them said anything, but they know.

His heart hammers in his chest and he belatedly wonders when it started doing that, when he started feeling dread this intensely. How long has he been _feeling_.

He sinks down to sit, not trusting his legs to keep him upright when the fragile lie he told was shattered so easily. The pieces of it crash around him, seeming to cut him open and leave him exposed in a way he doesn't understand.

It doesn't matter. It _should not_ matter.

Recoiling from his thoughts, he decides he just won't think about it. At all.

He waits a long while before he punches the hole in the tower. The force of his blow, leaves the building hanging suspended for a mere second in which he lifts it, and tosses the tower backwards like children's blocks. It clatters onto the hillside like a chalk line and lays like a slain beast. Saitama looks down at the exposed stairwell. On a positive note, no one will get trapped in the tower again, but on another hand, this tunnel, if it does lead to the Gilded Castle makes it more accessible to threats.

He supposes once this is over with, he can collapse the tunnel.

He doesn't feel like he's made a mistake.

He has taken no more than ten steps before the other men are clambering up the staircase.

“Are we under attack?”

“What the hell was that?”

“Saitama, what happened!”

Garou's eyes widen,” The tower is gone?”

Bewildered, the whole group look about and Saitama pushes past them,” We can't risk anyone else getting stuck in that room. Better to just get rid of it.”

“You destroyed the mirror!” Sonic hisses and Saitama shrugs.

“You have your own.”

“Not the point! It wasn't that size! Mine doesn't-”

“I say good riddance!” Metal Bat declares. He brazenly thumps Saitama on the shoulder,” Who the hell are you?”

“Just Saitama.” the hunter sighs. Familiar weariness settles on him at the question and the many that follow after.

“I really just punched it and tossed it aside.”

“Really.”

“I already told you!”

“LAY OFF WILL YOU!?”

Mumen steps forward as if to physically shield him from anymore inquiries,” Leave the man be, Bad!”

“O' course m'lord. Course.” Bad growls through teeth and Sonic is stepping forward to take his place,” Why destroy the tower? How did you know the floor wouldn't collapse as well?”

“Because it was cursed? And because it was already below ground? I had a feeling-”

“Oh! A feeling! I feel so reassured! Next time, don't! Or how about a little warning!?”

“Hey, I just-”

“Sonic! Enough! We all know you're just mad about the blasted mirror!” Mumen commands and the warlock grumbles to himself as he pulls ahead.

They're heading deep into the earth. The air is stagnant here, almost stifling the deeper they head down. Eventually they hit the last step and are in a long tunnel.

“Carry molasses there. I got Bad.” Garou says.

The knight yelps,” OI WATCH WHERE-! UNHAND ME!! GAROU!”

Mumen accepts being lifted with a sigh onto Sonic's shoulders and then the three of them are running. The tunnel twists and winds through the earth, sometimes delving deeper before it steadily inclines upward. They skid to a halt as the tunnel opens up into a large chamber and have a mere moment for Garou and Sonic to drop the other men to their feet before they are fighting through a den of beasts.

No sooner has Saitama punched his way through one, then another takes its place. All of them are horrible, misshapen things, dark creatures only illuminated by Mumen and Sonic's weak faerie light until Saitama sees several orbs of light manifest and explode against his fist. He's blinded, eyes spotted and throbbing with spots of color. He sees the shapes of beasts, a lone man throwing orbs of light. He sees the mass of black things that he thought were spots in his vision create a dark flesh golem and slams his fist into it to break it apart. He throws one at the lone man. He rips the whole place asunder, destroys anything he lays his hands on.

In the din of battle, he sees it.

Garou is a thing. A horrible, horned creature moving quickly, destroying the reforming flesh golem completely in rapid blows. He moves faster than the others and laughs gleefully.

Eventually, the monsters are destroyed, though one particular beast ran away after Saitama hit it. Startled by the way Mumen is slumped against the wall, he starts towards him,” Hey! You okay?”

“Think so. My arm's messed up. Sonic and Bad went to chase down that dog-thing.”

The guy has a few dents in his skull that Saitama thinks he can straighten out and slings him over his shoulders.

He sees Garou take off toward the tunnel at the end of the great chamber and sighs as he follows. He enters, only to have to brace himself against an immense pressure trying to fling him back. He notes Bad and Sonic pressed to the wall behind him, struggling with the unseen force before he sees the woman, or at least the phantom of one. She flits about, laughing,” I saw our downfall and you didn't LISTEN!”

“Psykos! Stop this!” Mumen shouts, and then he is ripped from Saitama's shoulders to hit the wall with a clatter. Saitama digs his feet into the ground,” Calm down! We're listening now aren't we? I mean it's hard not to when you're YELLING!”

She laughs,” And who's this?!”

“He's Lord Genos's champion!” Mumen yells,” He's going to break our curse!”

The woman laughs,” Oh? I see his fate. The fate brought about by his own hand, just as clearly as I saw the fate of our kingdom those years ago. This person doomed his own kingdom! How can he save ours?!”

Saitama freezes. He feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs, but thinks it might be her strange power trying to use the wind to rip him off his feet. He angles toward her,” What's the point of this!?”

“Do you not realize? If we can live like this, we'd be immortal! I don't _want_ the curse broken!”

Saitama goes cold. He sees Death's grinning visage when he blinks and is so startled he never wants to close his eyes ever again. His eyes burn from keeping them open against the wind,” You'll die.”

“What! You think I'm not already?”

He feels the dark pooling at his ankles like water, pressing in all around him and taking on his shape. It curls between his toes, collects in his clothes like rainwater and hangs heavy off of him. He feels the empty spaces inside his skull, yawning wide open, stretching on into forever. He's exposed and laid out and something _watches_.

He feels it crawl right under his skin, ice lurching through his veins to freeze his blood.

He tries to take in air, but there's no need.

This place is somewhere else.

A place without air or sound.

A place that is neither here or there. Neither awake or sleeping, neither living or dying. He's right on the cusp of dusk in twilight.

He looks up and sees his stars gleaming faintly above him.

_That's the Hook. Depending on whether the-ah you see that? That star there. It moves. That one there is called the Lure because if it tops off the Hook, something interesting always happens. Whether it be good or bad, those born under this sign are marked. Fantastic, unimaginable, terrible things will happen to you Saitama! More than anyone else!_

It was the first time he had heard her voice, but he knew her.

_Saitama look at me._

He very nearly turned, but knew that this was the in-between realm. Whatever you took, would come with a price. Looking into the eyes of the dead was a fatal error he would not make, no matter if he had always wondered if he was remembering her face wrong. Time had long eroded her features into a treasured imitation. An imitation of an imitation, as he had only seen her in paintings.

A mere snippet of a person, a shade off of the true color.

He did not know how long he lay there, staring at his stars. He watched the Lure inch by until it topped the Hook.

A young man sat beside him. His face was pale, eyes like gray starlight, and clothes the color of pitch. In spite of being touched by neither wind nor water, his black hair moved as if it were a live thing.

Silver eyes gleamed at him, and he resisted calling a name.

_Careful now, Saitama. You may be dreaming, but this is more real than you can possibly fathom. What you do here is leagues more important than anything you could possibly do in that other place._

“You're here to ferry me.”

The youth tipped back his head and laughed and it was the most wonderful and horrible sound Saitama had ever heard. Like crows and bells all at once.

_I saw what must have been your mother. Not an uncommon desire in this place to be ferried by a loved one, but you turned it down. Surprising. Or maybe not. You're infuriatingly unordinary._

_Instead, I will ask something of you and you will give it to me and I will deliver you from this place. Deal?_

Saitama didn't know what he would be agreeing to, but already he was aching deep in his core to follow his mother. To see what she looked like. To speak with her as they had not the chance to. To know her.

“Yes.”

_Ask me._

Saitama asked.

Saitama woke within his dream to see the great gold door of the castle before him. He eased to his feet, using the handle as leverage to pull himself up. 

_I touched that door everyday for seven years._

He hadn't questioned it before, but now he asked Sonic and watched.

_He moved his hands in imitation as Sonic remembered, drawing the outlines of cogs with his fingers, molding struts into the gold, linking tumblers, aligning teeth, carving the inscription and winding all the metal together into the framework for the spell. He watched Sonic step back and didn't recognize him._

_He was flesh and blood with skin pale as milk and long dark hair neatly coiled into a topknot. His silver eyes gleamed madly as spindly fingers worked. He watched as Sonic worked his hands bloody, catching his knuckles on the sharp metal, crushing his fingers in gears and losing two fingernails, but Sonic hadn't flinched or cried out. He worked like the automaton he would soon become, just a possessed puppet on unseen strings._

_Saitama saw him step back over and over to survey his own work, to see a mistake, to pause for just a moment with the moon overhead as his only witness._

_Saitama saw Sonic wake everyday in his lone cabin and cradle his bleeding hands in his lap._

_In the comfort of his home, bandaging his hands, Sonic's eyes landed on his woodaxe and he thought to himself,”If only I had no hands to work with. Then perhaps I could sleep as I once did instead of dreamwalking.”_

_He wondered why this day was more vivid than the rest as he watched Sonic call his pet, a wild boar, to his side. Sonic made his living as a woodcutter before, it seemed, though he also sold other services at his stall in the market._

_Sonic was approached by someone in a dark robe and immediately upon seeing them, Saitama saw the way the warlock stilled. His smile was wide, but didn't reach his eyes_ ,” Wish to keep warm for the winter or-”

“Quiet. One more jest out of you and it's your tongue I'll have you cut next.”

_Sonic's eyes narrowed and he beckoned the figure to the dark tent to the left of his stall, where Saitama knew from Sonic that the real business was conducted._

_The cloaked figure sat on the cushion before the scrying silver pan filled with water on its pedestal. Saitama knew from Sonic that the basin was a sham. Sonic used it because they never believed what he told them in word, they just had to see it with their own eyes even though what Sonic showed them was always something he imagined himself to match his words. Sonic never saw anything. He just knew what he said to be true._

_The hooded figure pulled his hood down and Saitama was flummoxed at the twin face that stared at Sonic's._

_With flaxen hair and watery blue eyes, he was Sonic's twin in every way except in color. He leaned over the table_ ,” Tell me now, who is the most just.”

 _Sonic was ready to give the same answer,_ 'Tis you m'lord' _but his nature would not allow him to lie to this person. To the demon that sired him._

_He set the basin to the floor and touched it. Like dye unfurling in water, a young man's image pooled across the surface. He had round, kind features, was bespectacled and broad, gleaming in armor. Sonic knew him, and felt dread in his heart as he spoke._

“This is the man who is most just. In his hands do people place their trust.”

 _No sooner had Sonic spoken, than the man up-ended the water over Sonic's lap_ ,” LIAR! ENOUGH OF THIS PARLOR TRICK.”

 _He threw the basin at Sonic, and snarled_ ,” HOW? WHERE IS HE?”

 _The warlock stood to shake water from his robe angrily_ ,” He is right under your nose. A squire under an incompetent knight. He whispers in their ears with a silver tongue and avoids bringing others to your court. Instead he resolves matters himself and is well loved. In ten years time, your people will renounce you and he shall usurp your place as vizier. All shall know of your magic you have cast upon the royal family and you shall be stoned to death.”

 _The other man raked fingers through his hair and began to pace_ ,” No, I cannot allow this! I must-No!”

 _He turned to Sonic, eyes wide and bulging from his skull_ ,” You! You must kill him.”

 _Sonic shrugged_ ,” I cannot refuse you; you know this. Just tell me what you would have me do.”

 _The other man's eyes narrowed_ ,” Bring me that pig's heart, and I shall reward you handsomely by sparing you your life.”

 _Sonic laughed_ ,” If that is to mean that you shall stay out of it, then I am thrilled.”

“Don't get cocky. You will leave at once.”

“I shall.” _Sonic grit out, and began to pack away his things._

_The next few days, Sonic spent his nights working on the door and the days sharpening his blade, waiting for news to reach him that the young squire had been banished. Sonic did not know what to do when that day came and he overheard the news in the market. He hurried home to fetch his blade from his cabin. He knew what he had to do, knew that the young man had already made his way into the wood, banished from the kingdom with his name stricken from memory. He could not refuse to do as the royal vizier asked and spoke his laments to the boar, who only snuffled and squealed in retort._

“That squire is the only reason the townspeople leave me be. You remember the days when we wandered across all the land, Ino? When we were never warm, our hunger never sated, our coin purse always nearing empty?”

_Of course his pet did not answer and he fondly pulled the great creature's head into his lap._

“For all this time you, my only friend was the one to pity me, to console me, to hear my sorrows. The people here did not want a warlock in their midst like many others and cast stones and threats and they caught you.”

_Sonic's hand trembled as it combed over the beast's head and Saitama felt misery cloud the memory and choked on the remorse Sonic felt. Sonic pressed his face to the top of the boar's head as he wept._

“ _They were going to kill you and in trying to get you back, they nearly dashed my head upon the stones do you remember? They were going to burn me alive with you, my familiar...as if such a thing existed! And then **he** came. He cut us down and rebuked them...I have never had chance to repay that debt until now, my dear...and I will never stop being sorry._ ”

Saitama watched Sonic pull the knife and shut his eyes, but he was forced to hear it.

He was forced through Sonic's feelings, and forced to hear him wail until he was hoarse.

_Sonic tucked his pet's heart into a box and waited until full dark before setting out towards the castle._

_The city was alive with talks by the fire and Sonic heard the anger, the outrage, the plots and the venomous intent, and he knew that he had very little time before the city was organized and at the gates of the castle._

_Sonic melted into the dark and stepped out into his sire's chamber. Again, the incubus was at the great silver mirror in the throne room, whispering all kinds of things to it and only ceased his crooning when Sonic addressed him,_ ”It is done.”

 _Sonic knelt, and opened the box towards his sire, who grinned wickedly,_ ”You've done well.”

“As you requested. That pig's heart.”

_Sonic left the castle in a hurry, sure that at any moment, his sire would unravel his deception. He saw the gathering of angry men that began to flood the streets and quietly made his way past them. Perhaps Flash would die at the hands of the people he ruled._

_He did not know, but he had to leave town and quickly. Sonic fled into the night, with the moon as his only witness._

Saitama watched as Sonic watched Mumen from afar.

_Without his pet, Sonic was aimless and had no attachments to anything. He latched onto the disgraced squire and invested himself in keeping him alive at any cost. He dispatched of ruffians before they had the chance to cross the man's path and left food for Mumen to wake to, when the man could hunt nothing._

_When they met in Gildreth, Mumen did not recognize him and Sonic, being a petty creature had called him all manner of names and stormed off, until he saw the castle. Or more accurately, he saw the door of which he had been dreaming of for some odd time and blanched. He fled the city, into the woods only to be turned around somehow and end up back in the city._

_He camped in the woods, fearing what sleep may bring, and stayed awake. Spots swam across his vision and materialized into crows that hopped forward and laughed at him._

“Get to work!”

“Work!”

“Work!”

_They cawed at him in inhuman voices until he was pulled into sleep unwillingly. He woke in front of the unfinished door, and saw that this time there were a great many crows all around him. They crows began to warp, to melt into small black golems with human faces and Sonic knew he had been called here from the start. Even his sire had been a puppet on strings plucked at by their shared Master._

_The golems sneered at him in words he did not understand as he worked. Sometimes he felt on the brink of understanding, only for the words' meaning to escape his knowledge as soon as they left his lips._

_Sonic often woke babbling nonsense. Hunting was very restricted in Gildreth. Most creatures feared him and knew of his approach anyway, being a warlock, so it left him with very little options._

_He started eating the crows that mocked him, hoping that if he ate enough that there would be less of them._

_People avoided him in town, but the crown let him be because he kept to himself and worked alongside the townspeople on the farms and public works when it was required of him. The fools._

_Sonic hadn't slept in years and his hands were always bandaged and in pain. In his dreams he could understand more and more of the babbling and sneered language of the crows and was worse off having heard them. The words rattled off of his tongue and beat hard in his temples, making it difficult to discern the waking place from the dreamed place. He was often grinning too wide when he was awake and eventually had enough sense to mutter behind his hands when he spoke to others in Gildreth._

_People thought him mad and he let them think that because he had no words to explain it. Perhaps it truly was madness._

_Years passed and Sonic knew that the words were curses, or rather they were the intricacies of one big curse. He asked the crows if he would be able to leave when his work was done and they did not answer him, silent for once._

_One day he went out to the fields to dig up the yields of the summer when a great crowd approached him. His eyes darted over them, their faces stretching and warping into those of the golems' and back to those of his fellows. Their shadows danced across the dirt as they walked over it and Sonic's lips clamped shut around all their secrets. Of insecurities, infidelities, lies, shortcomings, and intents. He pressed his hands over his mouth sickened at the smell of his own blood from his wounds. They wanted to kill him. They just might. Sonic laughed into his palms. The eternal sleep. The big sleep. Finally he could sleep. Death had come for him._

_If Sonic was more himself, he might have fought back, but he was waiting. He was waiting to see Him and the great woodaxe, and the waxen white face with those blooded eyes. Instead, Mumen rode his horse close, stopping short of the crowd,_ ”What goes on here!?”

 _Sonic stifled a giggle, attempting to brush away the hands that seized him,_ ”I'm dying. Leave me to it!”

_Even now, Sonic felt relief at seeing the regent well and unharmed. The life he had taken had not gone to waste. Though he dressed simply, he was dressed more finely than he had been as a squire. It was a life borrowed from Sonic's friend, but it was at least a good life. Sonic still felt sorrow rip through him like a reopened wound and began to cry._

_The regent frowned, dismounted his horse and parted the crowd,_ ”Can you not have pity in your heart for him? He has done nothing but work alongside us, strange as he may be. Did he choose to be this way? No, he cannot help it and yet you would kill him for that which cannot be changed! Shameful!”

_Saitama watched as Mumen sent Sonic home and took his place in the fields though the surrounding people protested it. Over time, Mumen began to talk with the warlock more and more, checking after him and mostly making sure that the townsfolk that were bothered by him would think twice before doing anything about it._

_Sonic still dreamed and worked, but now there was less work to do, and more words to speak. His hands began to heal, and his sleep was more restful. He was more himself and the towns people seemed to think that the regent had some influence over him. Sonic let them think what they would. Eventually they would all be dead and it wouldn't matter. The crows told him so._

_With his regained clarity, Sonic realized that this would mean Mumen would die as well._

_Sonic pored over his knowledge of the curse, but understood little to nothing. His only option was for the regent to leave and it was a slim chance._

_The day Genos returned had been announced by falcon four days ahead, so the town was ready with songs and feasts and Sonic knew that this would be the beginning. In the great ballroom, the townsfolk prepared to dance, drink, and make merry. Sonic spotted the regent easily and beckoned him over. Sonic's memories were smudged over, like bleeding paint._

“You saved my life once. Did you know?”

“Did I? I don't remember.” _the regent smiled kindly and Sonic realized his mistake._

“No! It was before Gildreth. In that other place! The one before this one!”

Sonic's mouth danced around the truth and he could not specify what he meant. With Mumen's name stricken, disgraced by magic, he could not speak of who he was and grew frustrated,” You saved me before and I shall save you now! You must leave! You must go away from here!”

 _Mumen smiled primly, placatingly, and Sonic knew that he thought it was an episode. A lingering madness_ ,” The King has returned. We will be fine.”

_Sonic tried to grab him. He saw the clock tick closer to midnight and panic gripped him. Mumen shoved him off and Sonic nearly grabbed him again before he saw the alarmed look on his face. The fear. He didn't trust him._

_Pain lancing through his heart and betrayal burning right through him, he ran to the door, to save himself. He threw open the doors, and it began._

_The door changed into the one Sonic had been working on for seven years. The clock struck midnight_

_Sonic saw the fields catch fire all at once from an unseen force, the houses burned, and people that were in them fled, amazingly unharmed. They ran to the castle for shelter. Fools. They ran past him into the castle and Sonic watched them from the stairs until every last one ran inside. It was only a matter of time until Genos returned and sealed their fate, Sonic knew. Sonic tore his gaze away in a silent farewell before he stopped dead in his tracks._

_Death stood there on the last step and spoke to him in words that pained him. It was like his head were cut open and bleeding freely. He doubled over, and something slimy spilled from his throat. It was black bile that began to writhe and take shape. Back wings fluttered out and he watched the crow take off and land on Death's shoulder._

_The effect the words he learned and spoke had on him was gone. Had his head always been so empty?_

“Did they not tell you that everyone would die? And yet you tried to take one from me. Tried to _cheat_ me.”

_The denial wouldn't leave his lips. Death strode forward and took his hand. Cold fingers locked with his own and yanked him back up the stairs. Sonic tried to wrench himself back, but Death went on undeterred, dragging him through the door sobbing and pleading._

_The door closed behind them and Sonic knew that in the end, he could not save anyone; not even himself._

_Three days passed and the people changed. Sonic had been prowling the upper floor when he heard the front door open. He raced to the foyer, only to see a great raging beast._

Saitama recognized Genos and his heart ached.

_Genos had to fend off the forest rangers that had escaped the cast of the spell and Saitama recognized the men from Kuseno's place. Sonic's memories skipped over the fight. Of Garou thinking Genos was the great dragon of past and defending Genos, of his fight with Sir Badd, of Garou beating all of them and the forest rangers fleeing. Of Genos curling around himself and remembering who he was. Sonic knew his secret and he spoke it to Saitama._

“He thinks he can stay this way and be strong enough to avenge his parents. This body is faster, stronger and he would live in it everyday if it meant he was even one step closer to killing the mad wizard that killed his parents. Even now, he is stuck but time moves forward without him and his gears? The tumblers? They are built like the door Saitama. That is how much time you have. The door.”

Saitama watched Sonic carve and build that door for seven years and with dread, he understands.

They don't have much time at all.

Suddenly, the vision before him darkens and Saitama is hurtling through the dark, gut twisting. A gasp rips out of him and he wakes from the dream drenched in sweat.

Psykos, had tried to ferry him to his death and failed. Sonic had-

He shudders and his hearing comes back to him too loud with the grating wind of a key.

He glances over to see Mumen crouched over Sonic, wrenching his key this way and that. The key spins smoothly. Sonic is grinning at him, his eyes coinless dark pits.

Saitama moved toward them, crawling over,” What happened?!”

Mumen could not speak with how hard he was sobbing. The regent's gears ground together in a mechanical whine. Even though he needed no breath, he was gasping, choking and Saitama attempted to pull Sonic from his arms, but he held on all the more tightly and Saitama saw it.

Through the open port, through the glass, he saw that the gear that turned with Sonic's tumblers was worn through. Saitama plucked the key from the port and his heart sank,” This...isn't his key.”

Mumen looked up, black oil seeping out from under his lenses to coat his face and could barely make a questioning sound.

“This is the wrong key.”

“H-he said-”

Saitama shook his head and ran a thumb over the port, swallowing around the lump in his throat,” The groove of the key was forcing the lock and that...broke it.”

Mumen shook his head, looked at Sonic,” It was always difficult to turn but it fit! It _worked_!”

“For a while...It looks like it was similar, but not the same.”

“That liar! That-...oh God.”

Mumen was inconsolable and Saitama left him be. In the cast of Mumen's faerie light, Saitama saw something glint and went to pick it up.

He felt his stomach turn.

It was one of Sonic's coins.

It felt wrong to cast it aside or leave it, so he pocketed it, and looked around for it's twin. He found it on top of the mirror not too far away from Sonic and took that too.

He felt still like he was being watched and the forgotten words of the curse festered in Saitama's head. He felt that even if he did not know the actual words, knowing _about_ them was enough to ruin him in some unforeseen way.

“Where are the others? And that woman?”

Mumen did not speak for a long time and Saitama waited.

“It's my fault...I asked him to.”

“To what?”

“You collapsed and I...” Mumen's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper,” I asked him to help you. He was so scared...and I didn't understand, I-I never really understood him at all, but he really did it. He...he helped you, didn't he?”

Saitama nodded and Mumen looked a last time at Sonic before standing and taking out the spotty handkerchief,” I never gave this back because I was sure he'd forgotten about it.”

Mumen was about to cover his face over with the token, but Saitama rushed over to grab his wrist, heart pounding,” Don't. Take it with you.”

“I can't.” Mumen said, face crumpling,” I can't bear to even look at it, much less carry it with me. I don't even know why I hung onto it.”

Saitama pulled up the hood of his cape and turned away, knowing that Sonic hadn't merely forgotten it. The undead could not give or take freely and Saitama did not know what strange deal Sonic had struck in order to give Mumen that small token, but he knew it had cost him dearly to do so.

He thought of the information Sonic had left him with and clenched his fists.

That effort would not go unwasted. Sonic's life would at the very least, have some purpose, and Saitama vowed to not forget him.

How could he, when Sonic had shared with him his memory? Not telling the secret, but showing him, and then in that very Sonic way, had explained and made his subtlety null. Of his own volition, he had made a decision.

It was because he was too stupid to understand, that Sonic had had to reveal the secret.

The secret keeper had broken the one covenant that made him so, and could be no more.

Saitama knew it was sad, that in a way, Sonic had been more companion to him than the rest of them, but he could not muster enough hurt to cry. Instead, he felt tired, aching and hollowed out. He longed to sleep, and feared it.

He turned to see Mumen grabbing for the mirror, and Saitama snapped at him,” I gave that to him. Leave it be.”

Mumen hicupped,” We must find the others. There's no other way!”

“We will find another way, now let's go.”

Mumen stepped around Sonic, whose grinning face was covered with the handkerchief now, and led the way out of the chamber with his faerie light in hand,” I suppose we must.”

He and Mumen walked in silence, footsteps echoing and Saitama tries to will away memories that aren't his. Even though he is awake, he still feels lost and disconnected. Like his body is a distant thing.

He panics, clenching his jaw and fists so hard it hurts and he speaks just so that he can know that he's not alone, that there's someone there beside him and not another phantasm,”Mumen!”

The regent turns in alarm, hand going to his blade,” What?! What is it!?”

“Um.” his stomach turns. He recognizes this feeling and wonders what he agreed to to get the warlock to help him.

He hears a faint snuffling and turns to the sound,” Do you hear that?”

“I can't hear anything over my gears! You gave me quite a fright!”

Saitama runs forward and Mumen follows,” What is it?”

“I don't know, but we're going to find out.”

As the snuffling grows louder, they hear a voice,” What do we do now? We chased this thing down'n got nothin' t'show fer it!”

“Shut up, I'm trying to listen.”

“Garou?!” Mumen shouts and is answered back with a booming,” Mlord?! Lord regent, that you?!”

“Shut up idiot! Until you know for sure if...” Garou's voice trails off and when Saitama and Mumen round the corner, they're stopped in their tracks by a roaring growl.

A great black beast lunges at them and Saitama swats its fanged snout aside. Undeterred, the canine lunges again and he hears Garou's shout of “ HEEL! DAMN! WHAT'D I SAY BEFORE?!”

“HELL IF I KNOW!” Badd shrieks and Saitama waits til the beast draws near and slams his fist over it's nose,” SIT DOG!”

With a simpering whine, the canine pulls itself upright, then shaking settles onto its haunches, panting. The creature is pitch black, with six white eyes and a horribly red mouth full of long, black teeth. It wags its tail and Saitama hunkers down to let it sniff his hand.

A demon dog? Or just a beast? Some kind of lesser dragon? He has never seen this creature's like.

Badd whistles,” Gotta be Saitama huh?”

“Shut it.”

“Tch. So mean.” Badd jogs out of the gloom and into the light of Mumen's magic,” Sorry 'bout that m'lord! We didn't mean t'ditch ya? How do you fare?”

Mumen swallows audibly,” Sonic has been slain by Psykos.”

Saitama frowns,” No, he...passed away. She had nothing to do with it.”

Mumen stares at him, before glaring fiercely at him,” How can you say that when-”

“Because I was there. It wasn't her.” he sighs, scratching at the dog-thing's ears,” Death took him.”

“Did you see Him?” Garou asked quietly and Saitama shook his head, standing,” No but I need to get back to the castle and look at that door. I-”

The words stick in his throat as he tries to explain, and his mouth has gone dry before he manages to say,” I need to.”

What has happened to him? What did Sonic _take_ from him?

Or did he _give_ him something?

He doesn't know, doesn't remember what he said and goes cold with fear. It's been so long since he's felt true, unadulterated terror and it's everything he can do to take a step forward and say,” Come on.”

He's broken into a cold sweat and without the warlock there, they only have Mumen's light to go by.

“How did you two find your way in the dark?”

Badd huffs a laugh, swinging his hand from Garou to himself,” Monster-vision and me being a great listener!”

“You mostly followed me.” Garou says lowly and Badd rolls his eyes. Saitama barely listens to their banter until Badd says,” What do we tell Genos about Sonic?”

“Let me handle it,” Mumen says stiffly.

“For some reason. I don't really believe it. That guy was always creeping around in the shadows and ugh.”

“Me either,” Garou says softly,” He was undead to begin with, I mean, can he really, truly die?”

Saitama's skin crawls. Sonic hadn't known either, and here they were.

“He was what?” Badd yelps, and falls silent at Mumen's flinch.

“Anyone can die...” Mumen's voice breaks on a sob and the young men go silent.

“No one else is going to die.” Saitama says into the dark,” I swear it.”

Garou passes close to Saitama,” Maybe you should have swore before we came down here.”

His whisper is punctuated with a snicker as he passes him and Saitama's insides curl like burnt paper.

Saitama is brought out of dark thoughts with the sudden press of the dog at his leg, it whines and barks before darting past them and down the tunnel.

“What's Rover up to?” Badd asks and suddenly the dog is bounding back and running off barking. The fourth time he comes back, he begins nipping at Saitama's boot heels and he finds himself jogging. Satisfied, Rover runs ahead of them.

Soon, Saitama is keeping one pace behind the dog and he feels eyes rove the back of his neck like hands. Distantly, he hears something calling him, he and Rover race into the dark, ahead of Mumen's faerie light and the air here is colder. He can see his breath and the chill draws the moisture from his breath and burns his nostrils dry. He runs still, and feels his ears ache with the frigid air.

He thinks he might still be dreaming.

In the gloom, like the afterimage of light spots in the eyes, a ghostly figure grows from the dark. Psykos smiles at him, sitting before a crystal ball.

“Come. Sit.”

Rover whimpers, scooching back to press against Saitama's shins, but growling at Psykos lowly. Saitama pats the creature, warmed by its loyalty despite its fear. He draws forward, though Rover bites at his cape to try and pull him back, and sits before her and her glass ball on the dais.

“What do you want.”

She opens her eyes and Saitama sees they are black, empty pits filled with galaxies of stars before she blinks again and he's staring into light blue-green irises ringed and dotted with black,” Stay a while, and listen.”

Saitama feels the temperature drop and shudders, but he scoots close,” Fine. I shall listen, if you mean no harm.”

Sifting through Sonic's memories, he knows better how to play this game between taking and giving and knows he has played his cards right in the way her mouth twists.

“So be it.”

“You will not harm anyone or thing as a result.” Saitama says.

She scowls,” No I won't do such a thing as a result.”

“Fine.” Saitama says. He places his hand into her outstretched palm and fights down a thrill at how delicate her hand is, how dainty.

He's suddenly conscious of the smudge of dirt beneath his thumbnail, the calluses, a faint scar that curls along his wrist.

“The other hand.” she says and reluctantly, Saitama does so and that small thrill is struck dead. He feels even colder.

“Do you like stories, Mister Saitama?” Psykos says wryly. Her fingertips are small and trail lightly along the lines of his palm.

Saitama shrugs and Psykos sighs,” Would you like to hear a story Mister Saitama?”

“If it is short, then you may.”

“I shall try,” she starts, but Saitama snatches back his hand.

“You will, or you won't. That will decide how this goes.”

“Not one for manners are we?”

“Manners are for those who do not take advantage of kindnesses allowed.”

“Fair. Did Sonic teach you this? What did he give you, I wonder? He left Death's touch on you, left the Mark, and it is a wonder what else could befall you? Did he gift you or curse you?”

“Tell the bare bones of this story, or I shall leave.”

“You're no fun at all.”

Saitama remains silent and the witch heaves a sigh.

“One loses favor with Death by failing Him. Sonic tried to cheat Him one life. Foolish. I...tried to cheat Him one life, and I am also a fool. You are like us, Saitama. You save people, you cheat Death and they have no accolades for you, not so much as a kind word. They take that borrowed time you spent and squander it.”

“People's lives are their own. I don't save them because I want something out of them. I do it because I want to.”

“And you want to because you can never make up for that first life you took. Your own flesh and blood!” She hisses over his palm, breath like ice and he tries to snatch his hand back, but he's caught in her stare, in those eyes that have gone the color of pitch.

“How honorable.” she sneers, and Saitama is frozen as her other hand curls around the crystal before her.

“I saw it you know. I was Fubuki's second in command and I foresaw our fate-Genos's fate. I warned them but they...didn't believe me. _She_ didn't believe me. I did everything I could to keep them safe for years but all I am is a tool! A thing to take out and use and pocket away at their convenience! Doesn't it anger you Saitama? Weren't you angry when your father chose your brother, a bastard son over you? The _true_ heir? Didn't it anger you to be left alone to your own devices with naught a friend in the world? Didn't it-”

She stops herself, sits back and unsticks her nails from Saitama's palm. Blood weeps from the wounds and falls onto the crystal. Saitama sees this from the corner of his eyes, unable to look away from the way Psykos's pupils are expanding like a dying star to engulf her eyes in black. She teases off his glove and he knows immediately what she was after but cannot pull away.

She sighs, turning his hand over to trace his Mark.

“Why did you do it Saitama? Why didn't you stop yourself?”

He doesn't know.

He used to get a rush from it, but then it became habit and he-

“You were strong enough to stop yourself. You chose to keep taking from your own people. You killed them yourself.”

No, they had merely moved away when times had gotten hard, when the major export had dwindled. He had ended an empire. He had sent them into ruin. Had driven his father off the brink-

“Did you really have nothing else?”

He loses himself in the depth of her eyes, can see the many pathways that stretch out before him. He doesn't have to be here. He can leave. He can die. He can stop. He can start anew. He doesn't have to risk losing anyone else. He will never have to witness people trying so hard just for their efforts to amount to nothing.

Like Sonic. Like Mumen. Like Genos.

Like himself.

_Return to me._

He feels the ghost of a palm at his cheek and wrenches his hand away to cross his arms, only unfolding them once to take his glove back.

“I have myself. I'm able-bodied. I'm strong. So long as this is true...I will continue as I have. Nothing can change the past.”

Psykos scowls, the world around him disappearing into the gloom,” You will always be the dud prince. Nothing shall change that.”

Rover is tugging at his cape and he nearly pitches forward. The dog is frantic, six eyes wide and whiter than bone as he barks at him. Saitama runs and Psykos wails behind him.

She's after him.

“I have your blood! THERE IS NO PLACE THAT I CANNOT FIND YOU!”

Saitama sees Rover lunge into the dark after her voice and he turns to run.

This tunnel has to lead somewhere into the castle, though he doesn't know where. Without having to keep pace with the rest, he moves as fast as he is able without compromising the stability of the tunnel. Soon, he's running across white stone wrought through with gold veins and he wonders where he is. He makes his way into the roughly cut stairs and winds up, up before he has to stop short at the dead end. The tunnel narrows into a space too small to stand. He wonders if this is it before he sees a hole in the ceiling and climbs through the open trapdoor. 

He doesn't bother to close the trap door or smooth the carpet back over it because he is too busy gaping at the high shelves that surround him.

“The library!?”

“Saitama!” a deep voice rumbles in the dark against the back beat of what sounds like a drum,” Is that you!?”

He hasn't heard that tell tale heart in years, hasn't heard anything from his brother since the man parted ways with him and his penchant for getting himself into dangerous situations.

“King!?”

“Down here!” his brother whispers,” Bro, I have no idea where that dark thing went or where that Fubuki went, but dude am I glad you're here!”

Saitama has to crawl to see several books pull out of a bottom shelf. His brother gestures him through the bookshelf and he crawls through the space to find that his clever brother has pulled four bookshelves around himself into a small room. As soon as he is through, his brother hastily shoves the books back and Saitama says,” It's kind of sad the way you've been holed up here the whole time. I came in here like...twice.”

“I know, but I couldn't give away my position,” his brother says, and when he stands, Saitama is startled.

His brother is a goddamn automaton. He's a bunch of spinning gears, a mass of bolted iron. He realizes how strange the situation is.

King's eyes follow Saitama's gaze to his hands and he sighs,” Oh. This. I can explain. There's-”

“A curse. Yeah,” Saitama says,” How'd you even get here? It's been some time bro.”

King coughs,” Um, so I had nowhere to go and figured, well to be honest I-you know our luck. I've been fleeing from one bad situation to a worse one for a long time until I came across the forest and the keys and it was terrifying honestly...um, so anyway. The king, King Genos, allowed me to stay for like one night? Then the whole place got burnt to the ground, we got changed to _this_ and then some townspeople got confused about me taking down some beasts with magic that I dunno how I got, and the dude-King-Genos-he knighted me!”

Saitama stifles a laugh and King leans against the shelf,” He's scary bro. Like, I couldn't speak a word besides 'OK'. Like, it only got worse when that harpy tried to take over and then all the in-fighting so I just holed myself up until they got over it-you know me, cloaking magic's my thing-but then they shut that harpy-woman in here an-”

They're startled by the way the book shelves blast apart and books and pages scatter everywhere. King shrieks and Saitama remembers that he's supposed to be running.

“Why does this always happen to me?!” King laments.

Saitama sighs, not pointing out that he's involved too, but he shoves aside the bookshelf in front of him with a scrape of wood on wood flooring and he flings King over his shoulder. 

“Show yourself! I hear you!” Fubuki shrieks and then the library is lit by a large chandelier above. Fubuki stares down at them in surprise, wings flapping,” You! How did you-”

She's interrupted by the light flickering out and Psykos's mad laughter from the open trap door,” Found youuuu!”.

He's running again, and he rips his way through the library and winds down carpeted hallways until he hits the foyer. Distantly, he notes the scrabbling of metal claws on marble but can't be bothered to turn back, even when Fubuki shouts,”WAIT!” He crosses his way to the artwork-door, throws it open and leaves it open. He winds his way in the dark, until he finds the door and pushes through.

Geryuganshoop uncoils himself with a yawn,“Is this just going to be a thing I have to get used t-SIR ROYALE! You've finally returned!”

Saitama deposits his brother by the door so he can grab Psykos's body. He carries her over his shoulder and motions King to follow,” C'mon dude! Quit sitting around!”

“You dropped me...” King mutters, but he still follows Saitama through the secret passageway and out the artwork door. 

“Saitama bro, Fubuki is-”

“Shut up,” Fubuki hisses as she enters the foyer from the library hallway. She stills as she sees Psykos's body,” What are you doing to her?! What _is_ this? What have you done?!”

Saitama turns to look at her, eyebrow raised,” Trying to get that phantom back in her body? What are _you_ doing? Besides being hysterical? What happened to the chain?”

“How dare you, I had to have my group-”

Saitama tunes her out, turning to the automaton before him and realizing the only options he has are either convince the ghost woman to get back in her body or resort to winding her again and hope for the best.

He starts winding and Fubuki huffs,” That isn't going to work. She's outside of her body.”

“It doesn't work on any of them, but it's all I got! Do you have a better plan!?”

Sonic had said she was dreamwalking. That meant she could still be woken.

She starts to answer before King yelps and they turn to the doorway, where Psykos's ghostly visage is floating,” Miss Fubuki.”

“Psykos.”

The women stare at each other for a long moment and Saitama just furiously keeps winding the body until the key sticks. Crap, he forgot he took the eyes for Fubuki. Does the thing need to have eyes to wake up? He glances up, and sees the harpy uncertainly bite her painted lip,” I'm sorry. For how we parted.”

“I did nothing but serve you. I was a loyal member of the group and you just- _you wouldn't see reason_!” Psykos says lowly, eyes narrowed. Fubuki's feathers raise like hackles.

“I wanted a peaceful take over! Not total annihilation of-”

“We had so much to gain. I saw it. In the face of that, does it really matter?”

Saitama shuts his mouth, not understanding any of it, then,” Hey-”

Fubuki throws up her hands,”You keep saying that, but you won't tell me what you _saw_.”

The other woman sounds on the verge of tears,” I DID TELL YOU. I SAW THE END! You didn't believe me! So I've been working! I've been-”

Saitama tunes her out and wracks his brain for answers.

“I told you I could handle it! Why didn't you trust me?”

“It's too big a problem for your shoulders my lady! I just wanted to protect you-”

_She's dreamwalking..._

_He remembered Sonic waking as if from a nightmare, trying to slash Saitama with a knife..._

_They still felt vertigo..._

_He had shaken him awake..._

_Perhaps it's that hands that are turning it?_

If she was a witch...

Saitama dug into his pockets until he had both of the coins. He flipped open each eyelid and sure enough, there was a strut in each eye, with a pronged divot at the end.

He pressed the coins into place and tried to wind the key back to no avail.

He looked up,” Fubuki can you-?”

Saitama ducked his head at the sight of the two women pressing close to one another in an intimate kiss.

Saitama looked up at Fubuki's alarmed gasp and saw that Psykos was gone. King's thundering heart was the only sound in the empty foyer.

“Psykos?” Fubuki whispered, but there was no answer.

She ducked to shove Saitama aside and when he let go, he heard the gears lurch back into place. He watched the key twirl forward to undo his hard work until Fubuki grabbed hold of it with some difficulty and wound it back,” Please, please, _please_. Don't do this to me.”

Saitama couldn't bear watching this again. Already, another person had...

He buried his face into his knees, but could not weep.

He felt useless and small.

What made him think that he could save anyone? That he could stop this from happening?

He rose up after sometime, avoiding setting eyes on Fubuki and the dead witch and walked to the door.

He could not dissociate the door from the way he had seen it in Sonic's dreams and knew now how it worked.

A wheel for the second. And a connecting strut.

A wheel for the minute. On a spire.

A wheel for the day. That locked teeth with

A wheel for the year. That had small, sharpened pegs on it that would eventually wear through

That one gear that spun by itself very, very slowly.

It was like a more complicated hourglass. If Saitama could somehow study it longer, he would know the exact day, he just needed more time. He needed to-

“Fubuki.”

Saitama turned, heart in his mouth at the rasp of her voice.

Tears froze on Fubuki's porcelain face faster than she could wipe away and she bowed froward to sob into the neck of the woman in her lap. Clawed hands carded through her hair,” Never, _ever_ do that again! That's an order!”

The witch smiles wryly, breaking a frozen tear from the harpy's face,” As you wish.”

Saitama edges away from them both to check on his brother, whose heart is hammering in his ribcage. He looks stricken,” The kiss fixed her.”

“What do you mean?” Saitama scoffs,” You can't kiss _crazy_ away.”

King rubs at the back of his neck whispering conspiratorially,” Genos put her to sleep and it was Fubuki that put her in the woods. Mercy killing...”

Saitama glances at them,” Y'think they'll be okay?”

King scoffs,” Ohhh no. Genos is gonna be pissed dude. They're like oil and water.”

“I can fix that,” Saitama says and jogs over to Fubuki,” Hey, so since I brought your lover back will ya like, stay out of the library Fubuki?”

The harpy is aghast,” As if I'd _stay_ in that hell hole a moment longer! A-and she's not my-she's a loyal subordinate- my-”

“Yeah yeah. So you're going to help clean the mess you made, right?” he says to Psykos, who is staring at him blankly,” Because we still have to break this curse and Genos can do it with more books.”

“It would be child's play, my lord,” she purrs,” But where is the incentive?”

“Are you kidding me!? After the trouble you caused!? Mumen and the others are still trapped in those tunnels right now!”

Seeing the difference between the more human looking wraith and the automaton of Psykos is jarring. Especially because of Sonic;s eyes in her face. Despite this, she seems to have no problem pinpointing where Saitama is and angles her head accordingly,” That was all you, your lordship.”

“It's _just_ Saitama!” it comes out more harshly than he meant. He can't bear to look her in the eyes and his gut churns sickeningly.

Psykos laughs, standing with Fubuki's help,” If you prefer. You realize that that doesn't change your blood.”

“To be a King, you actually have to have a kingdom,” King mumbles.

“Yeah!” Saitama says,” What he said!”

Fubuki is staring at him, green doll eyes narrowing. She taps a long talon to her painted lip with a click, before she tells Saitama,” Why would you hide that?”

He doesn't mean to glance at King, but he does and he knows by the way Fubuki glances at King when he looks back, that she saw. He doesn't know what he's given away, but by the quirk of her lips, he's sure it's something. He doesn't know what King has told these people. His brother wasn't much of a talker, much like himself, but the people here ask a lot of questions.

“Not hiding nothing.” Saitama says,”No kingdom, no king. Simple as that.”

Her eyes narrow,” I would say you're older than Genos...maybe around Mumen's age...so you're either a runaway prince or-no!”

Saitama jumps at her shouting, and Psykos is grinning at Fubuki like she's hung the goddamn moon. It's both pleased and dopey even as Fubuki is viciously tearing apart this new life he's built himself with the voice of someone who's solved a puzzle.

“You say you don't have a kingdom anymore, which means you used to, which means! You're from that fallen kingdom to the west. Zedread.”

Psykos claps delightedly as Saitama's head swims and King's heart drums in the background.

“You got it!” Psykos cheers and Fubuki grins,” Anyone could, if they study the royalty lineages.”

Before Saitama can pick his response, Fubuki is sneering at him,” You're the dud prince. The younger one. I can see why you hide it now.”

Blood is roaring in his ears. He doesn't know if he's angry or frightened that someone saw right through him.

“Does Genos know?”

“Do I know what.”

Their gazes snap to the Western entrance, then to the balcony, where the King is glaring down at them from the confines of a black robe. Fubuki tries to act, Psykos responding in kind beside her, but Genos waves his hand and the women fall to their knees, struggling against an unseen force. Genos's gaze softens with surprise when he sees Saitama,” You've returned!”

Not trusting himself to speak, Saitama curtly nods, avoiding eye contact by keeping his chin low, but he sees Genos's small smile,” And with one of my knights no less! Welcome back Sir Royale!”

“G-Good to be back my liege.” King says gruffly and Saitama almost laughs. How does Genos not see the way his brother is trembling with fear. How did no one know he was hiding inside the castle the whole time?

Genos sighs,” I'm afraid we must talk at a later time. It seems that past mercies are coming back to bite me.”

The Beast descends the stair,” It would seem that turning Psykos into a wraith did nothing to stop her revival. Pity. Now what should I do with you. You may speak.”

“Bastard!” Psykos spits,” I have wandered for an age trying to find where you had thrown my body!”

Fubuki seethes,” You mean you're the one that made it so she would not wake?”

“Yes. What did you expect after that failed coup. You think me a fool? I spared you before because my mother treated you like family. Now, you're out of chances.”

“Hey now,” Saitama stepped between them,” What's with this villain talk? Look I'm sure-”

“Stay out of it outsider!” Psykos screeched.

“Hey I'm trying to help you stupid!”

“Don't talk to her that way!”

“Don't talk to master Saitama that way! That's enough out of you.” Psykos's mouth moves soundlessly.

Fubuki laughs incredulously,” Master? You don't even know this person! He hides who he is!”

Genos frowns,” So what?”

Fubuki's brow furrows in disbelief,” What do you mean 'so what'?! He's royalty from Zedread! He doesn't have any land and now he's trying to steal yours right from under your nose!”

Saitama's jaw drops,” Why the hell would I want to-”

“So? Your point?”

King gasps softly as Fubuki and Saitama stare slack-jawed at Genos.

The king crosses his arms with a scowl,” You realize that we have nothing to lose, don't you? At this point, what does it matter. No price is too high for my people.”

With a flipped gut, and pounding heart, Saitama manages to meet Genos's serious gaze. He tries to speak, but his mouth has gone dry. He swallows, and tries again only to manage a weak, awed,” You're not serious. I-I mean I wouldn't do that but-”

“I know you wouldn't.” Genos says matter-of-fact,” Master is not that kind of person.”

Seeing that Saitama is dumbstruck to silence, Genos turns to Fubuki,” I have faith in my judgment. What about you Fubuki?”

“I think you're wrong. He's going to let us die and take this over.”

Genos rolls his eyes, and turns to Saitama,” Where's Mumen?”

Saitama struggles to make sense of the question for too long before he's cursing and bolting toward the library,” I'll uh-go, go get him!”

Exercise is so familiar to Saitama that he can lose himself in the routine. He can focus on his posture, his breathing, and definitely not on anything else. The hunter tells himself that he's just a humble hunter. A nobody. He doesn't have to be anyone or anything. At any moment he can leave this cursed castle and pick up his journey where he left off, but staying is the right thing to do. He has the ability to overcome any obstacle thrown at him and he needs to have faith in that.

He'll uncurse the place, ask King if he wants to stay here or go with him, and leave. He won't play politics and knows that the less they know the better off he'll be.

His gut is in knots.

He wonders if Genos was putting on a front or if he really didn't care if Saitama usurped him. He could actually hear his heart thrum in his chest when he wondered if Genos really thought he was capable of such a thing! Worse yet, their whole team knew that he had seen Genos in the mirror. Or a least Sonic did.

Even if the warlock were...here, he would be unable to tell his secrets.

He knew that now.

He dropped into the trap door, and bolted down the tunnel, only barely keeping himself in check enough to keep the tunnel intact. He knew that if he stopped, his mind would catch up to him so he just tore away the rubble until the tunnel opened up.

“Mister Saitama!”

Bad stomped around Mumen to shout at him,” Where's Garou?! He went with you didn't he?!”

“No idea.”

“So you lost track of him, too. Damn it.” the knight spat and tromped back the way Saitama came.

“Saitama, what happened?” Mumen said worriedly and Saitama sighed.

“So the wraith is Fubuki's beloved or something and everything's cool now. I think. She and Genos are-”

“You left them alone?! They're going to kill each other!”

" I dont think so. Fubuki's trying to convince Genos I'm trying to usurp him, which is ridiculous because-”

“You're not royalty,” Mumen finishes with a laugh, ”Well thank you for coming back for us, Saitama! Though I do wonder where Garou went off to.”

Saitama hunches his shoulders, guilt rotting his intestines like poison. Saitama wondered if he could quietly slip away to his quarters without anyone noticing. There was also the fact that King had been living with these people for who knows how long. There was no telling what he had told them, if anything at all. With his reclusive brother, it was hard to know who he was comfortable with,“Yeah, no problem man. What happened?”

Mumen sighed,” He tried to take off after you but lost your scent. You and that dog-thing just...vanished, he said.”

Mumen shuddered,” Where did you go?”

“The castle is up ahead,” Saitama says, leaving out he and the witch's meeting.

<" So it really does lead there...Let ushurry! They didn't exactly leave off on good terms, it makes me nervous, though Genos can handle himself...though I have not talked with Psykos for some time...How is she?”

Saitama shrugged,” She seems well enough.”

“I suppose that's good...I don't think we should forget she tried to kill us though...even if she is mentally unsound.”

“She seemed fine to me.”

Mumen smiled wryly,” You haven't really talked to her.”

“True.” Saitama lied.

Saitama's gut was twisting like live snakes the closer they got to the library entrance and to Mumen's remark of,” I wonder what this tunnel was originally used for?” Saitama blurted,” Everyone already found out so I guess you should know that...my dad was the King of Zedread.”

It takes Riderson a moment to process what he's saying, but when he understands what Saitama means, it shows on his face. His shoulders go up defensively and his mouth parts in an 'O' of surprise,” You...lied to me. You said you weren't a lord. You called yourself a nobody.”

“No! I told you the truth! Zedread has fallen! There's nothing left so I-”

Mumen frowns,” Untrue. You're here aren't you? You may have no land, but the magic of your line should-”

“I DON'T HAVE ANY OF THAT!”

Mumen stills,” What?”

“I never did have any of that. I'm...the dud prince. It never mattered anyway because I was second in line for the throne.”

“It does matter.” Mumen says,” Even if you don't have use of your magic, it's in your blood. It can be passed down your line to-”

“That's not gonna happen.”

Mumen laughs,” Even a landless lord has appeal your lordship. One of my cousins is magic-less and my nephew is still a mage!”

He wants Mumen to understand, but what would be the point? In less than a year he'll be on his way somewhere else. Right now, it sounds more appealing than this. Than everyone knowing who he is, and yet not knowing anything at all.

Mumen is running to the trap door above voice steely,” There's the exit!”

Saitama wishes he could run after him, but his feet are rooted to the spot, his stomach dropping through the floor.

Saitama numbly follows, head spinning. It's almost a relief, that they know his title, but not how he got it, not how he caused the downfall of his own country, or about the sign in the sky and on his left hand, about the whispers of the common folk and the ghost of his mother hanging over everything he did.

They don't know anything and he feels that he is perched on the very edge of the lie and the truth. He's somewhere in-between who he was and who he is and the lines are beginning to blur.

He needs to draw a distinct line in the sand, but doesn't know where to begin. Perhaps his past needs no further elaboration at all.

He hopes.

For the first time in a long time, Saitama tries to think ahead, worries about the future, and wonders what tomorrow will bring, not with his usual devil-may-care approach but with dread.

He knows that people are resilient, and have the power to change. He himself has shaped his life around the fact that wanting to change is the first step to actual change and he tries to have faith in that.

Saitama emerges from the trapdoor to a waiting Mumen who looks around with wonder,” I wondered how it was that I had missed a trapdoor in the floor, but look.”

Saitama steps aside so that Mumen can close the door behind him and there is no seam in the wood to be seen. Mumen walks over it,” It feels no different than the rest of the floor, even if you step heavily.”

“Magic.” Saitama curses, and the regent nods.

“The fact that that tower was part of the castle also worries me. That there was a den of beasts beneath our feet, worries me! That there could be a million things about this castle that are integral to our success in breaking the curse that we don't know worries me!”

“We defeated them though,” Saitama says,” And we found one of the knights so it should be fine!”

Mumen looks unconvinced, but with a guarded expression says,” I suppose, your lordship.”

“Please, _please_ don't. It's just Saitama. Mumen I'm...” Saitama tries to put inflection into his tone, tries to stress the words as hard as he can, but it just sounds like the weak, desperate whine it is,” I'm really not.”

Mumen stares at him for longer than he's comfortable with before nodding,” I will try, though I...I don't understand it. Even if it is of a fallen kingdom, a title is...something.”

Saitama blanches. He hadn't considered Mumen's title at all. Even if he's a Riderson, his first name has been stricken from record and memory. As a licenseless person, he has no right to return home, to hold any position there; as an exiled person he has no right to anything and was lucky enough to have a cousin willing to take him in despite his status.

In Saitama's opinion, he's lucky, but he never considered that by his own definition, Mumen might think himself disgraced or ruined.

“I didn't mean to offend you I just-with that title come things I don't want to remember-”

“You can't ignore who you are.” Mumen says softly,” It's selfish and pardon me for saying so but extremely unbecoming. I must report to my liege now and I encourage you to do the same, though you are free to do as you wish.”

The lord regent leaves the library, shoulders thrown back and face stern.

Saitama stays in the library. He looks around, knowing that freeing Fubuki from this place is supposed to be a victory, but he can't bring himself to be happy about it. The chandelier is lit overhead, casting a white light over everything. Saitama can see that the ice is melting, that the expensive shelves' planks are warped with water damage and he's sure that a great number of books are too. It's musty with the smell of mold and dust. As he walks over the floor, he circumvents puddles and notes the irregular dips in the floor where the ice and water have weakened it.

“So you're here.”

He turns, and sees the dark, twisted creature of Garou slowly warp into the steel-made teenager Saitama knows. His hands are in the pockets of white pants that are streaked and dyed with mud, grass and rubble. He narrows his eyes at Saitama with a click of his tongue,” I don't appreciate the words you had for the regent.” Garou drops down right beside Saitama and huffs with irritation when Saitama doesn't flinch back,” He's a good man, and you'd do well to speak with care.”

“Where've you been anyway? That knight guy was kinda mad when we couldn't find you.”

Garou shrugs,” Why ask if you don't care? Save yourself the trouble and don't do things out of politeness with me.”

Saitama sighs, eye twitching at the boy's haughty attitude, but just goes on,” Mumen thinks you know something about the curse. Do you?”

“Me?” the boy's eyes go wide, then dart around, before they settle again as quickly as they started, though no less bewildered,” No? Are you tryna pull something?”

“All I want is to break this thing so I can leave okay?”

Garou snickers,” Don't have to do that before you leave. Just leave.”

“I...” he falters and Garou leans close, grin wide and full of white teeth, the gear at his jaw is spinning wildly and it's quiet whir is the only sound besides dripping water in the empty library,” What have you actually done that we couldn't do ourselves?”

“I can go outside, and-”

“So can Sonic. In fact, now that our strongest knight, Bad, is back and we have Psykos back and with Genos and Fubuki on speaking terms, I'd say your job here is done. Unless you're actually here to usurp the throne like the rat I think you are.”

“I wouldn't-!”

Garou scowls, yellow eyes like live coals in his face,” Then go.”

He doesn't allow the way his heart sinks to make him leave. Instead, he thinks of the ring of horns, the cutting of rose bushes, the promise of labor, the scratch of a quill on paper, the way Saitama can manage to coax the gold rings of Genos's eyes to glow from the black of his sclera, the way Genos's laugh grates against his ears from the lurch of his mechanisms, the look of his gold plates in the low light of sconces, of broad shoulders and an interest in the outside world and the way he'll suddenly blurt out what he's thinking and storm off, or the way his tail flicks when he's incensed, or the pull of his mouth when he's concentrating on Saitama's words like he's trying to commit them to memory-

Instead, Saitama holds onto all these things and stares Garou down,” What about you? I know who you are Garou. I wonder if you found what you were looking for or if you're still taking the easy way out. Just because you're cursed to be a monster doesn't mean you have to-”

“I'm NOT cursed! This is-I'm not a monster!”

“What? But you still change.”

Garou is seething, pacing about like a beast on the defensive, shoulders tensed and hands curling into fists as he hisses,” At will, I can change. It isn't like how I was. At. All. I can change at will now. Unlike you, who haven't changed at all.”

“Oh, so you're admitting you remember me.”

Garou nodded stiffly,” You didn't remember at all.”

“That isn't fair. You looked...like you did when you scaled that tower. B-but that's good right? You broke your curse!”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Garou lets out a low, inhuman snarl, before he grumbles,” None of your business. The people here are _my_ people. You step out of line and I'll find a way to kill you. I may have lost last time, but I'm stronger now than I ever have been. I'm Garou, the _human_ monster, and against me, this rotten human society will fall and-”

“I get it! Yeesh! Okay!” Saitama cut him off,” I get it, the monster part is strong, the human part monologues, I get it!”

Garou huffed,” I'm gonna break this curse before you do, just watch!”

“Great, so we're on the same team, tell me what you know about curses,” Saitama tried, but Garou sneered at him, traipsing off with a loping skip,” I think not, _your lordship_.”

Right.

He was going to have to get used to that.

Again.

Feeling cornered, and anxious with what lie ahead, Saitama left the library. He didn't want to face Genos, now that he knew he had lied, he couldn't handle Mumen's hurt feelings, deal with Garou's maddening attitude, or with the whole in his heart left by Sonic's sudden death.

Saitama retreated back into the dark of the library, fell against the door only to lose himself in the despair that choked him, the residual remorse he had felt from Sonic's memories and lost himself in sobbing into his hands as the words of the curse burrowed into his every thought, like a shadow flitting beneath the surface of water waiting to pull him in.

He did not know how long he stayed there before Mumen came to the door,” Master Saitama, Lord Genos is waiting for you in the dining hall. Allow me to lead you to him or perhaps you would like to freshen up first?”

Saitama wiped his eyes raw, heart sinking at the wooden tone of Mumen's voice. He stood on shaky legs and opened the door.

He could do this.

No, he _must_.


	10. Thank You

Saitama threw open the door and saw Mumen standing there, gaze unreadable,” What will you do, if I may ask?”

There was no need to get gussied up, when nothing could hide he was a fraud. A sham.

“I will go to him.”

Mumen nodded,” I will send ahead of you. Ah, and Lord Zedread.”

Saitama looked up from his dust covered boots.

“Lord Genos has made this meal himself. Insisted upon it.”

Mumen turned on his heel and Saitama saw the copper key on a chain around his neck.

Feeling unsettled, Saitama made his way to the grand foyer and opened the door to the hallway of kind gazes. He glanced briefly at the empty space where the hidden gash was and then shoved open the dining hall doors.

Genos was at the table in a deep blue robe in his usual spot, though he was standing and smiling primly. Saitama ignored the way Genos cleared his seat to offer him and instead bowed before the table,” I am Saitama, remaining Lord of Zedread and heir to a throne that no longer exists. I would ask your forgiveness for the deception.”

He remained bowed over, fists clenched at his sides and felt the wound Psykos had left on his hand burn. He waited for the anger, the dismissal, the betrayed hurt, and heard a low, rude snort.

“I know this and it does not matter. I told you before and...I must ask your forgiveness as well for playing along with your lie. I seem to have caused you some distress in making you keep up such a pretense, though I must tell you now, that you are a terrible liar, Master Saitama.”

Saitama lifted his head, and saw Genos settle into the right hand chair. He laid his sharp cheek into the cleft of his palm and spoke softly.

“I understand wanting to be someone, anyone else...You must have been made to study lineages as I had. Must have had to memorize lists upon lists of names and match them to who would make good allies, who you could marry, who your children would be best marrying into, and what the exports of each kingdom were.”

Saitama had nothing to say, mind blank and the Gilded Lord went on waving his hand dismissively,” And then, it didn't matter. Our kingdoms are gone. The only difference between us is that my people are unable to leave and find better fortunes and you...your people have left, but you have changed...or perhaps you are just more yourself? Forgive me, I have puzzled this for a long time and still have no answer. Perhaps you might, given some time.”

Genos sighed,”Do you know how I knew?”

Saitama shakes his head and Genos goes on,” People, commonfolk, are usually more careful in their word choice when they speak to royalty, or they wait until spoken to just to be safe. Your walk...it's a rather carefree gait. Your eyes scan the room when you enter it, surveying the windows, the exits as a warrior should...You know when a spell has gone off. I've seen you run hands over your ears to pop them. When I measured you for an outfit, you knew how to hold yourself. You aren't phased by much that this castle has to offer in way of amenities and-”

“I get it.” Saitama says and Genos huffs,” And you dare interrupt me when I can very well order your head on a platter.”

“S-sorry.” Saitama says and Genos shakes his head.

“And your blood. It sings.” Puzzled, Saitama doesn't know what to say, but Genos is pushing back his chair to stand. He walks around the table,” Are you wounded?”

Saitama nearly trips over his own feet trying to take a step back,” What? No?”

“I can smell it.” Genos says plainly and he stops a step short, towering over Saitama who can't bear to look at him. He can't lift his head, can't make his eyes meet that particular shade of gold. His heart pounds and he doesn't know if he's frightened or ashamed. It feels like both but also something else entirely.

Genos holds out his hand and Saitama blanches. He thinks of Psykos and her crystal. Of the words that have snagged like thorns in his every thought. Of the mark on his hand and all the misfortune that has been foretold in the alignment of his star sign that had been written long ago for anyone that it loomed over.

He tears away, panic in his throat but Genos seizes his hand. There's a flash of warmth before Saitama takes his hand back and he looks at it with wonder. Pulling off his glove, he sees that the wound has healed.

“What happened to you?”

His head swims and his teeth bite over the truth. He has to stop and start his story several times before he can get it right. Somehow, through great effort, he relays the bare bones of the story, leaving out he and Sonic's meetings in the dreamt place.

Genos is silent, not interrupting even once and by his even temper, he suspects that either Mumen or his knight have told him all that Saitama has said...except.

“Sonic...was a warlock.”

The beast's eyes widen,” How did the presence of a warlock escape my notice!”

“You shut yourself away from the lot of us, how can you notice anything?” Garou sneers and the doors shutter behind him only to reopen as Sir Badd grabs the back of his shirt, the young Zenko on his hip in his other arm,” Forgive me m'Lord! He got past me an'-”

Garou turns to frown at the knight,” This is no place for children.”

“I'm not a child!” The tin siblings roar back, with matching scowls and Saitama can't help the terse, surprised laughter it pulls from him.

Genos is less amused,” Garou. Now is not the time.”

“When _is_ the time?! I'm sick of hearing it! I waited for _so long_ for you to take the time to send a search party and now we've lost another of ours! How many more before you _do_ something!”

Badd tried to pull Garou by his middle, Zenko pulling at his collar from her perch on her brother's hip,” Garou!”

“Mind your manner!” Zenko scolded worriedly.

“Badd, leave him be.”

Badd set his sister down and stepped in front of Garou,” I won't allow him to disrespect the throne I have sworn fealty to. On his behalf, I apologize for his rudeness m'lord.”

“It's fine-” Genos starts, but Garou grabs Badd by the front of his shirt and growls,” Who are you to speak for me? You have no right to-”

“You're spoken for fer as long as I'm breathin'! You and Zenko are all I got so don't go losin' your head! It's like you've lost your damn mind since I've been gone!”

Garou's eyes go wide, then he drops his gaze, eyes flitting everywhere before their attention is drawn to Zenko who takes their hands in her own and whispers audibly,” Guys this is embarrassing. Brother are you crying?”

“M'NOT!” Badd yells, and bows to Genos stiffly,” 'SCUSE US!”

Genos sighs at the display,” You may go Sir knight, I have no further use of you. Garou you may remain to speak your piece.”

Badd bows again and shoots the other boy a warning glare, Zenko tells Garou,” Behave.” before she is scooped up again by her brother after curtsying to Genos.

Once the door has shut, Garou stalks forward, still stopping a respectable distance from Genos and sits on the ground cross legged, teeth gnashing fiercely,” I don't have much to lose as it is, but what I do have I nearly lost today and it's your fault.”

Genos stares at the boy impassively, moving to take his place at the high table and Saitama sits, not believing Garou's fierce audacity.

Genos sets his chin atop the gnarled knit of his folded claws,” Explain.”

Garou barks a rude laugh,” Badd was sequestered away in a Godforsaken tower for most of the year and you did nothing! You leave this place to the dogs and claim to be working to break this spell but are you really? Are you really when you revel in your monstrosity! When you change your body daily with enchantments and fortifications, not so you can return us to how we were, but so that you may survive! As you are.”

Genos slams his hand on the table,” ENOUGH! You've said your share, and I don't care for it.”

“I don't care much for you either, but Badd thinks the world of you because of your parents. Because of his own parents who, may I remind you gave their lives in defense of yours.”

“Do not forget your debts. That is all I'm saying.” Garou stands, bows with a graceful, albeit mocking dip of his torso and stalks off to slam the door after his exit.

Sonic had said the same thing of Genos and now he knows that Mumen is right.

Garou really does know something. About the curse, or Genos, it's unclear, but the boy has been entrusted with the safety of the children and Saitama remembers that day spent on the stairs with him. Genos had asked Garou to call on him if anything should happen and Garou had said he had tried.

Something was up between them.

He turns to the king, ears still ringing with the slam of the door and the resounding silence. Genos has his forehead pressed to his folded hands and sighs,” I'm sorry you had to witness such a display...If you really were intending to take my throne, I suppose that would look to you like I couldn't control my subjects or that they had no respect for me...” the king heaves a great sigh,” but then again, Garou isn't one of mine. He showed up one day intending to swear fealty until he realized I wasn't the dragon of legend. His dream went from serving the greatest monster that ever lived to becoming it.”

Saitama doesn't know what to say, if he can even muster the willpower to say anything at all. He feels...lost. World-weary.

He just wants to sleep.

“I won't bother you any longer for details of this adventure,” Genos says suddenly. Saitama lifts his head.

“Eat your fill and rest...I know you must need it and I'm sorry for your loss.” Genos says this last part so gently, “The blame lies not with you, but with me so...Please take care of yourself.”

He vanishes, and before Saitama, on the table is a hearty venison stew and a goblet of wine. His stomach turns and he doesn't know if his stomach can handle something so heavy, but he remembers Mumen telling him the King had made it himself and endeavors. The meat falls apart, the fat of it melting across his tongue in an array of spices that have him filling his mouth again as soon as he's swallowed. The soup is packed with cabbage that he savors, taking time to enjoy its sweetness before he again revels in the more savory meat. It has been so long since he's had cabbage and he's nearly crying.

No, he is.

This is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for him and he's sobbing into his meal. It was an unintentional gesture. There was no way that Genos knew his favorites or knew that he needed time to recuperate after an adventure like this one.

Though, if he were honest, he had never been on an adventure like this one.

He had met Death and his cohorts, tumbled in the dark in that twilit place, and learned more about how magic worked in general.

It was terrifying, but it was real. He could feel the pace of his heart and wondered if it had always been so unsteady or if he had been so numb he hadn't noticed it. Right now it was broken, and he didn't know if he felt more sad that he would never see Sonic again, or that Sonic had died never knowing a single day of true happiness.

No one deserved to labor away in secret, wasting away until they were nothing.

What of himself then? Even now, he had not accomplished much. Would there come a day when his time was up, a time when the reaper would stand over him and he would still feel this horrible underachievement?

Saitama still didn't care for mead, beer, or wine but he picked up the goblet to drain it when something clattered upon the table from his lifting it.

He glanced over and saw a small, curved white piece with a paper tied around it.

“A message?”

Saitama set down the goblet and picked up the small token only to drop it in surprise.

It was a bone, or a horn, rather. With shaking hands he untied the note and rolled the parchment out along the table. He cursed when he smudged it and held it more delicately, completely in awe of what he was looking at.

It was a picture of himself. He knew that, though in the picture, he was mid-turn with the curve of his cheek in view, looking back over his shoulder. He thought it looked somewhat like him, but was not.

His cape billowed out to the right of him, every detail of his armor right down to the scuffs imitated in black. His expression was soft, the eyes lit up in recognition of who this Saitama was turning to. This Saitama was in a nondescript hallway of the castle. This was given less detail and was smudged out to give a soft, fuzzy look to his surroundings whereas Saitama was defined, sharp, and the definite focus.

He drained his goblet, letting go the paper, which curled to hide its drawing away. Saitama thought the drawing was good, though it was flattering, and he felt it was like a memory or a dream. It was a more presentable imitation of the real thing.

His face burned with the heat of his embarrassment as he carefully tucked the bone and drawing away, and left the dining hall.

He walked through the halls, knowing it must be past seven at least only because Genos had called upon him for dinner. He remembered the pocket watch and fished it from the pants beneath his greaves.

It was a quarter to nine, but the shadows were too dark. In them, he could see the faces of the golems, and did not know if he was hearing or remembering the call of crows.

He rubbed his gloved hands over his eyes and ran into a door.

It was the smoke room.

He let out a startled sound, putting a hand to his mouth to stifle the way it broke into a sob. He didn't know if he had the strength to make it to his room, so he pushed open the door before him instead. There was the stale smell of smoke in an empty room to greet him, and the sconces lit in a soft glow as he deposited himself in one of the chairs, purposefully avoiding the scuffed one. His breaths came harsh and loud in the quiet.

If he slept here maybe no one would find him. No one would call him.

No one would wake him.

The two-seated chair was uncomfortable, but his very bones ached for rest.

He did not remember closing his eyes.

Saitama dreamed.

He thought he was dreaming.

Something watched him in the dark.

He tried to rise from the couch, tried to lift his head, but he was paralyzed, heart pounding as the creature loomed closer, the smell of baby's breath and cloves washing over him.

His eyes adjusted slowly and he saw the prongs atop its head, its sallow, cracked skin and split mouth crammed with sharp, needle-thin teeth. Eyes like wet silver settled on his own, gleaming like twin stars. Its spaded tail flicked lazily, long clawed hands kneading the leather of the arm of the couch beside Saitama's head with a horrible ripping sound. Long black hair hung around its face, waving gently on an unseen current.

An incubus.

_You called me._

Saitama could not speak, but the thing went on, its voice a melancholy song, a low melody of sounds Saitama felt were both familiar and otherworldly.

_This is the price for cheating death Saitama. Now think, is it really truly worth it? What is your life worth to you?_

There was long moment Saitama felt as he did watching Sonic's memories except it was his memories that were sifted through for his answer.

The demon recoiled and turned from him.

Saitama feels the pressure in his chest, the pounding of his heart in his temples ease and finally is able to say,” You're a monster now, does that mean I have to-”

He thinks of Sonic's sire and wonders if Sonic will bring more warlocks into the world. Miserable, suffering people that belong neither in the waking world or in a dream, forever in twilight never seeing the dawn or day. Never knowing the love of their fellows but knowing their secrets and scorn. He can't allow it.

No one deserves that just for being born.

It laughs at him and the sound rattles his bones, makes them feel like they were splitting at the joints. The demon's face split into a grin that was a warped, nightmare of the man he once knew.

_You think so ill of me. No. I refuse to do His bidding in this rigged game any longer...Saitama I answered you to thank you. I answered you to tell you that you may follow me into the dark when your time is up and I shall ferry you. When you break that curse, you need not worry the consequences._

The demon levels its gaze with Saitama.

_Or you can follow me now...I see that desire within you, you have only to take my hand. Choose._

Saitama woke and took note of the weak light filtering through the curtains.

Another night had passed.

Saitama's mouth had soured over night, he had slept in his armor and it trapped his heat, making him grimy with sweat. Saitama stared at the ceiling, both wanting to know the time but not caring. He should seek out Garou and try and wheedle the truth from him.

There were a great many things he should do, but he lay there instead.

He wondered how long it would be before someone fetched him or pounded an insistent fist upon the door.

No one came.

He had greatly missed his older brother and wished to know how he had been, what misfortunes had befallen him in Saitama's absence, but he could not muster the will to move.

They would think he had disappeared on them. They would whisper behind his back in hushed, sharp voices.

He did not wish to see any of them. To have them greet him amicably or otherwise. He did not want to be plied with false pleasantries now that they knew his title. Neither did he want to be the target of scorn and so he lay there, hoping that this day would just pass him by or that he may lay there just a moment longer.

He would start again tomorrow. Guilt gnawed his gut as he thought he should spend his time in the crypts. Now that he knew more about what it took to wake people he should try it.

He rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the back of the chair.

Saitama shut his eyes, and waited for sleep.

He woke and it was still light out.

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, staring at the rectangles of light cast from the window. 

If only he had not woken up at all.

He had once heard the story of a man who had slept for three years.

How had he managed such a thing?

Saitama wracked his brain, thoughts on loop over the same thought until he grew sick of it. He turned onto his side in frustration.

Elves. Faries.

Ah, that was it. Amai Mask had asked him what he wanted in exchange for bringing the mountain down on the Fountain of Life and he had asked him to heal his brother.

Even King had said that the healer in town would have been able to help him. That he had wasted a Fae gift. Saitama had just...He hadn't wanted his brother to lose his eye. He couldn't take the chance. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if he lost his eye because Saitama had gotten them in over their heads. Again.

He should have asked Amai to make him the King Under the Mountain, like in the old dwarven tales.

Maybe he should have...

Saitama woke, chest heavy, feeling as if he were drowning. The room was dimmer, the cast of those rectangles of light longer and lower.

He should get up and bathe at least.

He turned onto his stomach and it turned at the smell of smoke in the leather but let his eyes shut anyway.

It wasn't like he was going to meet anyone anyway.

He fished out the gold pocket watch and flipped it open.

He watched the second hand tick away over and over until an hour passed, then two, then three.

His stomach growled.

Wouldn't it be nice to be woken by the sound of merrymaking. That they had not needed him after all and solved the curse themselves.

The solution was probably simple, right in front of his face. If it were anyone else that held these pieces of knowledge, they would set to work immediately and use magic to pull that loose thread Sonic had mentioned that all curses had and rip it loose.

Saitama shut the pocket watch and closed his eyes in a sigh.

He was still so tired. It felt like his flesh was hanging off his very soul like stone.

Like he was made of dust that the slightest breeze could take away and yet he felt so heavy.

It made no sense really.

Sometimes he wished the world would just stand still. Or better yet, that the world would move on without him.

He heard the rapport of metal feet on a carpeted floor, then the sound of the handle turning and sat up too late.

“This is where you've been! They been looking all over for you an' you've been sleepin'? Can't blame you, I wish I could do th' same after yesterday.”

Saitama looks over to see Sir Badd in a long sleeved red shirt and high-waisted, billowy pants. The young automaton grins at him,” Don't worry, I won't out you or anything like that! I'm hiding from someone m'self! Heard of hide n' seek?”

Saitama nods, not trusting his voice.

“The kids are real exited to have me back! Garou's a lil' stricter than me. He doesn't play with 'em, just sorta keeps them on a schedule an' anyway sorry to bother ya.”

Saitama shakes his head and runs his hands over his face,” You weren't. Who was looking for me?”

“Genos. Mumen.” Badd says,” I get it though. Believe me I do.”

Saitama's heart punches in his chest unbidden and it startles him. How long has he been here, wasting the day away?

Badd drops his bright expression, frowning at the floor,” You fell asleep in your armor...I told them you probably need time's'all y'know? Still, you should wash up, take a walk or something.”

Badd rubs at the back of his neck,” I uh, went back down there. Garou didn' want me to but I...he was weird and more than a few bricks short of a madhouse, but he was one of us, y'know? He didn't have to help us at all but he always did, even when he was...anyways. I buried him by that tree he was always hanging around. I can show you so you can pay yer respects...if you like that is.”

“What of the mirror I gave him?”

Badd startled,” I put it with him and his sword. They were the only things he had near him so-shit, was that yours?”

“No. Thank you.” Saitama said. He ran gloved hands over his face and they came away wet.

Badd averted his gaze politely with a cough,” Um, and that dog won't listen to me even though _I_ was th' one who named it. It followed me out of the tunnels and he's been crying all day driving Mumen up the wall. He tried to put 'im with Sonny in th' henhouse but Rover's too rowdy. Dog might listen t'you better...Garou's more of a cat person an' I think Rover can tell ahaha...Y'gotta do somethin' or try...”

The boy laughs,” If ya can, that is! Well, uh nice to meet you and uh, sorry about everything I just... Thanks. That's what I really wanted to say.”

Badd steps forward, his dark eyes gleaming fiercely,” I'm actually glad you got rid of that tower. Thanks to you I can still take care of Zenko, she's my sister. If you need _anything_ ya just gotta ask. I'm pretty tough, not too bright, Zenko's th' smart one, but I'll make it happen. Bug me if you think of anything!”

The knight slips out the door and shuts it quietly behind him.

He grabs up his pack, waits a spell, then heads out the door to his room the next hallway over.

He shucks off his armor, peels off his underclothes and turns the water as hot as it will go.

Even if it were boiling, it would be unbearable, but would not scald his skin. He scrubs himself until he's reddish pink and only then does he step out. He meticulously cleans his teeth, heads to the wardrobe and manages to find a dark black outfit ringed with silver songbirds and sighs.

It will have to do.

He pulls back the curtains, climbs onto the window sill and drops to the ground below, his gut twisting as he remembers doing so only a couple days prior.

He doesn't know what he could have done to prevent Sonic's untimely death. Was it like his Mark, a predetermined fate? Was it a choice, as Sonic had offered him?

He thought these things, knew them both to be true and felt his heart ache.

He didn't want to die like that.

He wandered for sometime, walking through the ruins of Gildreth. He walked around the skeletons of houses, down the framework of the roads. He stopped at the fountain.

He looked out to where the light had shattered in pieces on the tops of the trees and thought that he could just leave.

He had seen that pathway in Psykos's eyes but knew that it might be a lie. He had never made her promise to only tell him the truth so anything she had shown him could not be trusted. Still, he wondered if he might be better off seeking some other venture, helping some other town.

To what end?

So that he could daydream of people smiling at him? Of people enjoying his company?

He knew by now that that was not how it worked. You could give and give until there was nothing left and you would be thought a fool.

Or you would have only a gold heart left and someone would recognize your efforts posthumously.

It depended on who was telling the story.

His head swam and he wished his thoughts would stop. By the time he finally saw the headstone at the edge of the woods, the sun had sunk below the treetops.

It was dusk.

It was a large white stone and Saitama wondered if Badd had taken it from the tower he had toppled or more likely, from the stonework that lead to the trapdoor.

Sonic's name was carved crudely into the rock, his epitaph left blank. He had probably known Sonic better than anyone, having lived through seven years of his life, but he still did not know what would be appropriate.

Perhaps it was better that way.

“I know you're not really dead but...”

Saitama sighed, settling down on the grass to the left of the freshly dug earth.

“I know how you felt. I really do.”

Having people spit in your face because of who you were. People assuming they knew anything about you because you had some predetermined fate. Striving to rise above those expectations, only to meet them over and over with growing frustration. Working to save what you could only for it to slip through your fingers.

Saitama pulled at the grass,”I guess that's why I...”

Now, he really was alone.

“I'm glad to have met you. I think we could have been friends or something...I guess? Sorry.”

He feels silly, so he stands and takes off back toward the castle.

All this power, all his experience, all that he's been through and he couldn't save the person who was so much like himself.

It feels like an omen.

He wrenches open the door and wanders toward the foyer only to be distracted by the sniveling whimper of a dog and an exasperated sigh,” What do you _want_? C'mon boy! Who's a good boy? No?”

Saitama sighs, not bothering to angle toward the noise. He whistles once, shortly and mutters,” Rover. Come.”

There's another whimper and even from this distance Saitama can hear the skitter of claws on marble and thudding feet across carpeted floors until his pet is barreling itself into his legs, very nearly tripping him up as he avoids trampling him.

Rover is smaller than Saitama last saw him, barely reaching his knee and he doesn't know if that should worry him. The dog's tail thumps his leg loudly and he wriggles half in excitement and half in distress against Saitama's legs. Saitama heaves a fond sigh as he kneels down and is butted by Rover's muzzle. He turns his head away as the dog licks his face, unable to stay still for even a moment. When Saitama tries to soothe him with petting, the canine lunges into his arms and he's forced to carry him.

“You're a mess,” Saitama says softly.

Rover just barks and whines.

He finds himself smiling. Usually animals can't stand him, but he supposes monsters have a bit more backbone.

“I'm hungry.” Saitama says to his pet and Rover, calmed somewhat, answers him with a panting bark.

“Can you even walk on your own?” he asks. When he tries to set the black dog down, its six eyes narrow and a growl rumbles through him, only to return to pleased panting when Saitama hoists him back up.

“Needy aren't you. I think I have some jerky left for you. I'd go hunting but...” he thinks of the deer,” I'd rather not.”

“I wonder where King's gone off to...though I doubt I'd be able to find him.”he says idly and Rover's tail begins wagging anew, hitting Saitama's arm repetitively. He turns Rover in his arms so that he's on his back and nearly laughs because he sort of looks like a baby.

“You're just a big baby aren't you?”

Rover yips and he feels a bit better. He ends up in the foyer and heads to the painting. Rover allows himself to be tucked against Saitama's side and he enters the secret hallway. He finds the door easily and takes off his pack at the entrance.

Geryuganshoop unfurls himself with a sigh,”Come to trouble me once more? What became of the girl?”

“Fubuki woke her.” Saitama says,” I hope to figure out more and I...need some quiet to think.”

Geryuganshoop nods,” So are you hiding away?”

“I'm not really hidden if you know I'm here.”

“Do you wish to remain hidden?”

“What are you saying?”

“There's a reason they didn't find Sir Royale...”

“Oh!” Saitama says,” So you hid him? Why?”

Geryuganshoop folds two pairs of his arms, sniffing primly,” He's the only one that's any good at puzzles or had the good sense to stay out of Fubuki's nonsense. He's the maze maker for that particular hallway you know. It helps me a great deal in keeping this place hidden and well, he asked that I turn a blind eye to you. Consider it my thanks for 'finding' my one good chess opponent. He's the only one that doesn't need a physical board in front of him.”

“Thanks.”

Geryuganshoop blinks a couple of times,” Of course? I mean...Well, I'll leave you to it.”

He will have to thank his brother for looking out for him.

Rover wriggles out of his grip to run between the slabs of stone while Saitama digs in his bag. When he pulls out the jerky, the monster comes bolting back to him, nearly tripping over its own feet. Saitama is pleased to see Rover snatch the treat from the air when he throws it. When he takes out the wafer, Rover sniffs it and makes a hacking sound, before losing interest and running around again.

Saitama's never had a pet before, but he likes it, even if Rover seems like a handful. Dogs had never really taken to him so he's excited at the new prospect of training Rover to be a hunting dog-demon-thing.

When Rover comes back to him from exploring, he's a little bigger, and Saitama wonders if he's going to have to watch out for that.

“Well, we'll burn that bridge when we get to it, yeah boy?”

Rover barks his assent and Saitama begins his work.

He winds his way through the automatons, lining up keys with people until he runs out. He hadn't realized there were so many people.

“Hey Geryuganshoop, uh...could you tell me about this person?”

Saitama has Geryuganshoop repeat himself several times, but finds he can only remember two or three people's names and who they were close to. The wraith is a bit impatient, but complies and Saitama memorizes what he's heard when the clock chimes midnight.

Cursing, Saitama calls Rover over and runs through the hallway so he can get a good look at the front door.

He scrabbles across the foyer, watching the pieces he knows unlatch and spin apart. The door had opened, but it has worn through that constantly spinning gear by a small margin.

Saitama leans close. He notes the spinning gear is grooved, each one a hair's breadth in width. He spends nearly an hour, counting and recounting, unsure if this is important or not when he hears,” Miste-L-Lord Saitama?”

Saitama doesn't answer, having lost count and counting again. Sonic had made these grooves with the whorls of his fingerprints. It was done over and over delicately and it was the words he had spoken that made them razor thin. This gear had had more blood spilled upon it than any other and he didn't know if that was important or not.

He was brought out of his musings at the press of Rover against his legs and the low, warning growl that rumbled through him.

He turned to see Mumen a few paces behind him, lenses weeping and cheeks streaked with oil. Saitama noted the dents sustained in his arm and face from the fight against beasts had gone undealt with.

He leaned down to pat Rover,” Easy boy. What's up lord regent? Want me to pop out those dents?”

Mumen shook his head, and Saitama looked at him skeptically,” You sure? It'd only take a minute.”

“It's fine. I can't feel it anyway...What are you doing?”

“You see that gear there? I'm counting the grooves. It might be important, though the fact that I can tell you means it isn't.”

Saitama curses, heaving a great sigh,” I really thought I was onto something.”

Mumen approaches the door with interest,” What makes you think that?”

Saitama goes to answer, but can't. The words have become like live snakes in his mouth, frightening and wriggling so he lets them go and offers a shrug,” Just a feeling, what're you up to?”

Mumen seems taken aback by this, but answers,” I was looking for the dog but it seems he's taken a liking to you...that's good. He's been inconsolable since he followed Badd up here.”

“That so?”Saitama asks Rover, and the dog wags his tail, six eyes blinking arrhythmically. That will take some getting used to.

Mumen takes a breath,” I was actually looking for you. Sir Metal Bat brought Sonic back today...He buried him with that mirror-”

“I know.” Saitama says, cutting him off,” I visited it earlier.”

“You cared a great deal about him...didn't you? I'd say you spent most of your time with him.” Mumen says quietly.

“I guess so.” Saitama sighs,” How are you holding up?”

Mumen's breath hitches,” Today was the first day I had to wind myself...the way my key is placed makes it difficult...I kept expecting him to come through the door. I was...waiting for a long time.”

Saitama looks back to the door. The regent looks with him. Rover sits, his tail hitting Saitama's boots and the tick of gears the only sound in the foyer.

Saitama almost turns to leave, but Mumen's words hold him captive, rooted to the spot,” I have a lot of regrets and now that I can't sleep I keep thinking about it. Why did he help me and Genos? Why did he lie about his key? There are so many things now, that I will never be able to ask. I don't even know if they really matter at this point...Lord Saitama, I'll ask you, seriously this time. Do you really believe you can break this curse?”

“Yes.” Saitama says.

The regent seems to deflate a little, shoulders shaking, and Saitama pretends not to see the oil tracking down his face anew. Mumen takes a handkerchief from his pocket, and if it's the same one Saitama saw him use as a shroud, he doesn't say so. He crouches down and pets Rover, waiting for Mumen to compose himself before asking,” Where's King?”

Mumen folds the handkerchief away,” He's in the library. There were a great many books that he did not have access to before. I hope he has some sort of break through. I am to tell you that the West Wing is still forbidden, but you are still free to visit the library. I strongly suggest you do so.”

Saitama realizes his mistake,” And uh, the other knight we found? Where is he?”

“Sir Royale? He is in the knight's watchtower most likely.”

So they don't know they're family. Saitama nods,” Where is that? I want to talk to him. Then I'll see Genos.”

Mumen nods, then gives him clear, concise directions that Saitama would feel more insulted by if he hadn't already gotten lost in the castle several times.

With Rover at his heels he turns to leave when Mumen speaks again,” Lord Saitama...If you have need of anything...please do not hesitate to ask. Spring is ending and...time is...”

Saitama smiles, and clasps the other man's shoulder,” You need to start planting crops.”

The man startles,” I-what?”

“ Look, even if I break the curse, you people have a small greenhouse and a town full of people. That isn't going to cut it when winter comes. People need to eat.”

“We don't-”

Saitama heaves an aggravated sigh and has to grab Rover by the scruff to stop his resulting growl,” Yeah you don't eat now, but you will when you get your bodies back. See ya.”

“Y-yes Lord Saitama, that's very wise!”

“It's just common sense,” Saitama murmurs to Rover when they are out of earshot and the dog just looks to him, tongue lolling.

With Mumen's directions, he makes it to the knight's watchtower easy enough only to hear heated arguing,” What's the meaning of this Badd?!”

“After yesterday I thought it'd be pretty clear! Zenko said you've been grounded.”

“She can't-”

“You break her heart, I break _you_.”

“Just try it-”

Saitama throws open the door and sees the young men, Badd and Garou at each others' throats. They turn at his entrance and he raises a hand in greeting,” Have you guys seen that other knight guy?”

Badd, with his hands gripping Garou's collar, jerks his head to the staircase in the round room,” Up top probably.”

Garou's yellow doll's eyes narrow,” What's it to ya?”

Saitama shrugs and heads towards the stairs,” Don't mind me. You guys have fun.”

He pays no mind to Garou's indignant response and Badd's continued argument.

The staircase is made of stone and winds up the watchtower. He finds himself trailing a hand along the wall, and watches Rover rapidly climb the steps and then make his way back to him before he reaches the wooden door at the top. Dust motes spin in the air like flakes of snow and Saitama and Rover sneeze once or twice. He grips the metal handle of the door and shoves it open, only for the screech of wood on stone to answer his ears. The door is heavier than it should be.

He hears the familiar thudding of his brother's heart and shoves his way into the room, only to realize that his brother has stacked furniture in front of the door. He laughs,” Same old same old. Do you think that'd really stop 'em?”

His brother is shaking like an autumn leaf ready to fall, a pillow clutched in metal hands and face deceivingly calm,” I could say the same. Still haven't learned to knock, huh?”

He grins, let's Rover through the door and shuts it behind himself. The dog puts his nose to everything, nosing at the many beds and every corner of the stone room. Saitama notes that this must be where the castle guard sleep. There's a ladder leading straight through the middle to the floor above and Saitama wonders how many levels it goes up and decides three considering how tall the castle is.

Saitama throws himself onto the bed opposite of King and sits cross-legged,” How did you end up here? I haven't seen you since-”

“The fountain,” his brother says and shudders.

Saitama nods with a snicker,” Still got the same half-luck, half-bro.”

King throws his pillow at him with a scowl,” How so?”

He catches the pillow easily and returns it as full force as he can without knocking him over,” This is a nice set up, but it's cursed. What do you know about it.”

King ends up falling back anyway, annoying Saitama by kicking his metal feet out to his full height into his stomach, but not hard,” Stay here three nights, and you turn. Uh, that mad wizard who kills people did it. Watchers are everywhere. Everyone's memory of the event is all jumbled. Everyone remembers it slightly different than how it actually went. That's it.”

Saitama sits up straighter,” What is that supposed to mean, King? Different accounts of the same event aren't so uncommon-”

King stares up at the ceiling, gaze hard,” I know. This is different. It's like...having a bunch of puzzle pieces. You have to solve the puzzle but you realize that some aren't even part of the puzzle or that the pieces have been cut down and don't fit. It's either they're remembering it wrong, or they're all lying. Which do you think is more likely, Saitama?”

Saiatma curses,” So you're saying they're no help to me.”

“Didn't say that. Maybe you can discern a pattern out of it if you find out the discrepancy. Maybe not. I listen a lot and everyone's account is...off somehow to the way I remember it. I can't even trust myself on this either...”

Saitama curses,” This means Sonic's account is the only one I can trust.”

“Why him?” King sits up alarmed,” That crazy guy? What did he-actually I don't wanna know dude. I'm just gonna lay low until this blows over. It's up to you bro, I'm sure you got an ace up your sleeve somewhere...”

“Thanks bro-”

“Even if it's usually just being able to take a hit unscathed.”

Saitama shoves him,” Aw, shuddup will ya?!”

King grins,” Good to have you back Saitama.”

“Yeah yeah.” He stands and King looks after him,” Where're you going?”

“To see the King.”

“Confusing.” King scoffs,” Just call me Royale from now on.”

“Sure sure, c'mon Rover.”

“Hey Saitama?”

“Yeah?”

King drops his gaze to his lap, heart picking up its thunderous tempo,” I didn't tell them anything. Not a single thing, bro.”

Saitama doesn't tell him that anything King could tell them would just be part of the truth and not all of it anyway,” Thanks. Try not to sweat it, man. It'll be over before you know it.”

King offers a wobbly smile,” No matter what we get into, I can always count on you I guess. So uh, don't let me down now, okay?”

King laughs disingenuously and Saitama nods before he scoots Rover out the door and then himself.

Saitama tromps down the stairs, heart a bit lighter, but worries still settling in like crows come to roost. He has no idea what to do. Even if he wakes the other castle residents, that won't turn them back to flesh and bone. No matter how many hints he gets, he feels no closer to the truth. Instead half-thoughts and malformed conclusions swim through the fog in his head and he feels that he is so _close_ to seeing the full picture.

He arrives at the bottom of the stairs, deep in thought before he realizes that it's quiet. Garou and Badd have gone elsewhere. Saitama had wanted to speak with Garou as well, but it seems his luck has run out. With a soft sigh, he pushes open the wooden door of the guard tower and makes his way over marble until it becomes carpeted. He winds the unfamiliar hallways for a time until he ends up in the foyer. From there he easily finds his way to the immense doors of the library.

He takes a deep breath.

“Here goes.”

He is surprised to find that the chandelier of the library has been lit with faerie light that casts a golden glow onto everything. The shelves are dried of water, the wood is still warped in places, but it is no longer damp and spongy when Saitama's boot falls upon the floorboards. The air is clean, free of the motes of dust that spun lazily before. Saitama inhales deeply and finds that the mold smell has been replaced with that of paper. His breath does not fog on the exhale and he realizes that the traces of Fubuki's residence are nearly gone.

“Genos?”

His voice breaks the silence unanswered and Rover pushes forward through the gap of his legs to run about from shelf to shelf. The hunter closes the door behind himself and calls again to no avail.

The man feels disappointment well heavy as lead in the cavity of his chest. Slumping, he decides that he might as well look around. In the glow of light, the library looks almost magical compared to its previous gloom. Saitama winds round the high bookcases, trailing his hands over leather spines as he goes. It reminds him a bit of Zedread's library, except those had been scrolls and not tomes. Bound books such as these with hundreds of pages were rare and much too luxurious. In this room alone was enough treasure to sustain a man's lifestyle thousands of times over and Saitama couldn't quite grasp the enormity of such a collection of wealth.

It's as he winds around yet another tall bookcase that he feels a tug at his cape. He turns to see Rover tugging at him. When Rover catches his gaze, he lets go and trots off, looking behind himself and barking insistently. So far, his friend has not let him down, so he follows. The little pet takes a winding path through the forest of books until Saitama is lead to a great open space with a table.

His eyes widen at the great windows that tower to the ceiling. From here, he can see the great expanse of the dark sky dotted with stars. The walls in-between the windows are shelves crammed with books and twin staircases curl upward to a platform made to rest right under the view. He can see there, dead center, the dark silhouette of what can only be a telescope. He isn't so much thinking about it before his body moves. He climbs the stairs two at a time, intent on the lines his eyes draw between constellations. So many stories lie there in the distances between those pinpricks of light overhead and he aches. It's something familiar and old and he _needs_.

He reaches the top step, sees the straight line of the scope, the gleam of glass, the spider legs of its perch before he sees something else gleam at the table the scope is in front of and freezes.

A dark arm laid out against the polished wood of the table. A metal hand, palm down, fingers curled around the plume of a quill Books upon books laid out. Resting upon those, pillowed on one arm and breathing gently is the king.

Even in sleep, his face is that gargoyle scowl, though the set of his jaw is loose, his lips parted on a soft breath around the awful curl and jagged shapes of his black fangs. His hair is still a wild sculpt of gold run through with the curl of black dragon horns. His gears spin slowly, ticking lowly in the dark. The light of the moon catches the metallic threads on his dark cloak and to Saitama it seems that he is laying on a bed of small stars. Like moonlight has seeped into the seams of his metal body to hold him together. Like some ethereal creature he is unworthy of witnessing. Some celestial being at rest. A fallen star.

It's the pale of his own hand reaching from the peripheral of his vision that startles him. It's his own gloved hand entering his view that breaks the spell and breaks the light feeling in his chest much like the sudden snap of a thread.

No.

He doesn't know why he put out his hand, but he stops. Rover's six white eyes gleam at him and one by one blink into the surrounding dark before appearing all at once from beside Genos.

“Genos?”

The man sleeps on and Saitama realizes how close he has gotten. He can see each eyelash painted in a crescent of moonlight and he panics, taking a step back. He runs his gloves hard over his face before it hits him.

Genos is _sleeping_. He looks at the beast laid out over the table and wonders. If Sonic is not here, perhaps it's the witch. Out of fear he shakes the man by his cloak, his gears do not rattle as Mumen's or the other residents do. The king is more finely crafted.

Suddenly, from the pitch of the king's eyes, the gold of his iris is alight and traps Saitama. He let's go the cape, but that gaze holds him until the king is pulling his hood down to cover his face,” Master Saitama. You are still here.”

Saitama swallows thickly,” Yes, there is still my labor and the curse.”

Genos stands to gather his books into a neat stack, begins to tuck papers between the pages,” I thought you had gone off...Geryuganshoop could not find you.”

He ducks his head in shame,” I was in the smoke room.”

Instead of anger, the king sounds delighted, his words skipping like stones on water, buoyant and amazed,” How did you manage such a cloaking spell? You surprise me more and more! Do tell me your secret!”

He gestures Saitama to sit and he does, opposite the king who takes up his chair again. He lays out a leaf of paper and dips his quill to write anew.

He flounders for a lie,” I just...did not wish to be found.”

Genos scribbles his words down,” Did you 'have a feeling' as you say?”

It's hard to keep eye contact, and it's hard to speak,” You could say that.”

With an impatient whip of his hand, the books pile themselves and Genos is standing,” Come with me.”

Saitama stands to follow. Genos walks ahead of him in his cloak and Saitama doesn't pay much attention. He feels haggard, eyelids heavy as stone. He ends up running into Genos, and unsettling them both. Genos turns,” Are you okay?”

“Yeah man.”

They're in front of the door that leads to the rose garden. Saitama knows because of the glass window in the door. The sky is still black, dotted with stars and Genos steps out into the night, gesturing for Saitama to walk ahead. He can't see the scraggly rose bushes in the dark and thanks no one for small mercies.

Genos takes the lead again, leading Saitama through winding paths that Saitama can't see. Genos must have either cast a spell for night eye, or he has the walk way memorized. They walk along the side of the castle in silence, the wind gentle in its passing, the paved stones steady beneath their feet.

“I...I used to walk here often with my mother. She loved gardening. When she was tending to them it was said the flowers bloomed bigger and brighter than any had ever seen.” Genos chuckles humorlessly,” Of course, that was said after...after she had passed. The truth of it is that there was a time when she had planted tulips and no matter how much she tried, they would not bloom. She had a green thumb, a way with plants but she was only human...It's hard to remember that when I...hear all of these things about my parents. Sometimes I want to believe so hard, it becomes ingrained in my truth. It changes who they were to me. What they were...It's easier to be alone where no one can touch my memories of them but that...It isn't good to be alone. I think...Sometimes it's nice to be with someone, but not talk at all.”

Genos is quiet,” The others talk too much. Let's stay here for a moment, Saitama.”

Saitama stayed and the silence was healing. When he shuddered from a strong draft of wind, Genos stepped in the way of it and they stood there, staring at the expanse of the stars, the bright glow of the moon.

“Thank you,” Saitama said.

Genos nodded, and they went back to looking. After a moment, Saitama lifted his hand to point out stars and told the stories that connected them into constellations. Genos listened.


	11. Death

Looking into the night for these pinpricks of light reminds Saitama of nights spent huddled close to King on his bed.

King told him in a hushed voice about something sitting on his chest, bleeding into his limbs to weigh him down into his sheets when he would rather being running and screaming his terror. Like being lowered into your grave but unable to protest it with word or limb. Saitama could never empathize, or imagine, but he had sympathy.

He told King about the star maps and traced them with a finger. Each star had a name, and each star was placed there to tell a story. The bones of stories just lay there like places just out of reach. Places that were always just beyond the horizon. Depending upon which side of the world you were born on, it always seemed to be the distant shore, the opposite shore, the foreign shore. It was much easier to shape beasts and extraordinary things from the unknown to fit one's desire. He found himself trying to explain this to Genos the way he understood it.

“That star?” Genos asks and Saitama shakes his head.

“No, this one there.”

Genos laughs,” And where is _there_. You're incredibly specific.”

Saitama pulls him close and points,” There.”

“Oh. _There._ How could I miss it.”

Saitama shivers at the cold of metal against his side, and yet flushes hot, pulling away,” Yeah, so that is the point of her head and from there is the zag of her body where she was laid to rest.”

“Isn't that line of stars also called the Serpent?”

“To elves. For us, it's the Great Dreamer's resting place and marks the West.”

“Us...” Genos says softly. Saitama doesn't miss the incline of his head, to the gleam of his metal claws.

Saitama is appalled,” Of course! You're still human! Plus, shouldn't wizards know this stuff anyway?”

Genos folds his arms,” Elves and fae are more in tune with magic than man. At least in the way that is most effective. You see-”

Saitama knows when to cut him off now,” I'll take your word for it.”

Genos gives a crooked smile,”So be it...you know...forgive me if this seems rude, but-”

Saitama offers an easy smile,” We're beyond rudeness by now aren't we?”

Genos nudges him with an elbow,” I'm reminded when you interrupt me, yes.”

Saitama blanches, but Genos goes on, unperturbed by his indignant splutter,” I was thinking it might be possible that you are...elvish? Or of mer descent?”

He holds up a hand before Saitama can respond,” It's just that you do not cast as is normal. You-”

Saitama feels the cold now, creeping in through the gaps in his mourning clothes,” I told you. I'm the dud prince. I...can't. I've always been magic-less.”

Genos shakes his head, leans in so that Saitama's view is just the gold rings of his eyes,” I think not.”

He can't help the hope that blooms anew, even as he tries to uproot it at the source,” It's nice that you think so, but it simply isn-”

He stills at the ice cold claw lifting his chin, feels his heart race and his hearing is so sharp he can hear the gentle whir of Genos's gears. His eyes are drawing a line up his dark neck lined with silver, to the sharp, witch's jut of his jaw, the ragged teeth, the cutting edge of his cheekbones and the east draconic curl of his nose. With Genos so close, he's afraid to breathe, is conscious of his height. Though he stands on both feet he feels drawn up taller, onto his toes by Genos's hand. He finds those two beacons of light in his face, and sees molten gold, a deep amber.

His heart aches as it did for the view of the telescope, and he _wants_.

He's left wanting when he pulls away. Genos's hand curls on thin air and he feels choked. He's lost somewhere in the dreamt place he's sure. That place has left him touched with something wistful and unnatural. It has left him aching for things that simply cannot be.

“I wish it were so.” he says to no one, but he knows that no one will answer. Genos is but a babe, a child forced to play adult. He...how long has he thought of him as a man when he has for so long thought him a mere boy with an unfortunate curse?

“You do not have to wish, Saitama. Just listen, and believe me.”

He laughs because his heart is soaring and breaks over the reality that they are speaking of two different things now. That this foolish dreaming would break like-

“The dawn.”

“What?” Saitama asks, turning to Genos and as the light bleeds away the dark, he sees Genos as he should be. He sees him in the breaking light of day, gleaming like a wonderful, horrible statue.

“Look, the dawn is breaking.”

Like a spell broken, Saitama sees the dimming of stars overhead. Of the clouds stained in muted pinks and oranges. Of black capitulating to soft blues, and lighter yellows.

“You can't look at stars without the night.” Saitama says with a forced laugh,” And it's cold. We should head inside.”

“You forget that the sun is the largest star,” Genos says almost breathlessly. Saitama turns to see him staring at him, eyes intent, horned brow pulling low over his eyes in a serious expression,” It shines so bright that all other lights seem to vanish, though they still hang in the sky. Against something so brilliant, so breathtakingly strong, anything would weaken. It is my favorite.”

Saitama himself feels that he is looking at the sun and turns away scorched on the gleam of Genos's gold,” I-I see. Well, let's-”

“Saitama.”

“Yes?”

Even if he is not looking, he can feel the heat of the king's stare on his neck, on his bald head and pulls his hood up self-consciously.

“You have your own magic. Both figuratively and literally and I shall endeavor to prove such to you.”

“I'll believe it when I see it,” Saitama says over the thunderous boom of his heart and flees at a pace he hopes looks natural.

Genos calls after him,” Wait!”

Genos could not possibly understand the weight of his pretty words. In trying to impress Saitama, he sounds as young as he is. As hopeful and awed as Genos sounds, Saitama is sure that his interpretation has been tainted by his wishful thinking. All nobles talk in honeyed words that paint double meanings, but he is certain that Genos is too straightforward, too earnest in wishing to learn the secret of Saitama's strength that his admiration seems...

It doesn't seem anything, Saitama decides as he retreats down the pathway. He reaches the door undeterred, but a flash of color catches his eye. Warily, he turns and sees the dot of color on the nearest rosebush. He wanders by for a closer look and stills at the small, white bud sleeping as its branch is buffeted on a strong wind.

Summer has come.

“Saitama!”

He very nearly darts inside, but he heaves a deep breath, and waits.

Genos stalks forward, too wide mouth parting doggishly,” You're not curious at all? Why I believe what I do?”

Saitama ducks his head in a sigh,” Fine. I'll bite. Why? A-and no long answers!”

The king's eyes glitter like the rays of a sun off of a lake and Saitama finds himself squinting at him,” Did you know there's two kinds of magic? The applied and the natural.”

Saitama stares and Genos frowns like he had hoped that Saitama would be able to figure it out himself by being told something so seemingly inconsequential.

“So...” Saitama starts and Genos picks up his head eagerly,” So I'm lacking in both.”

“Wrong!” Genos growls,” Impossible!”

Taken aback, Saitama shrugs helplessly,” You realize you could tell this to that rose bud over there and get much the same results right?”

“No! That's-” he startles suddenly, eyes wide in disbelief,”What rose? A rose?”

Saitama sighs, grabbing a handful of the king's cloak to drag him to the plant in question and point at it,” Summer is here.”

Genos stares. He reaches out and Saitama's heart seizes in his chest before Genos remembers himself and stops,” It's been...so long since these bushes have flowered.”

Genos turns on him, eyes gleaming,” Natural magic.”

Appalled at Genos's mistake, Saitama groans,” It's just gardening!”

“Not that!” Genos declares,” Applied magic is spells and such. Words. Natural magic is...it's...” Genos seems stumped for a moment before he straightens up suddenly, barking out in excitement,” The cup of blood! The dragon's spilled blood! It's intent, but just-”

Saitama almost hates to dash Genos's breakthrough,” I can cast a simple fire spell. Most of the time it warms me, but because I'm here because of this place, it ignites.”

The king visibly deflates, face pensive,” There must be a reason...”

Saitama smiles and pats the king's shoulder,” I'm just bad at it. Everyone is bad at some things.”

He stares at that small dot of color on the rose bush longer than necessary, knowing the implications. He's running out of time, or rather, Genos's people are running out of time. Shame unfurls in his gut like a terrible reprimand and he knows he shouldn't be entertaining thoughts of what may be when what is, is currently looming over him.

He needs to head toward the crypts.

He's thinking of a way to excuse himself before he realizes that Genos is staring at him,” What is it?”

“I just realized something.” Genos straightens up, nodding to himself,” Please spar with me.”

Saitama is about to squawk,” Again?” but the words die on his lips as soon as he meets that gold gaze. What comes out is a feeble,” Okay.”

They head out to the same scarred expanse of land and Saitama internally grimaces at the craters he had left in their previous fight, although the newly sprouting grass soothes his guilt a bit. He has never liked destroying trees or creating gouges in the landscape, but he has long since accepted the consequences for wielding his strength.

Genos is throwing aside his cloak and unabashedly rips apart his shirt.

In the light of the rising sun he gleams. Spells waver in the air and Saitama realizes that it's the King's temperature that is rising. The seams of his parts glow white-hot and leave spots across Saitama's vision. Genos exhales a plume of dark smoke,” No holding back, though we'll see how well you do against my fire without armor, Master Saitama.”

Saitama sighs, feeling awkward about not doing anything and as a result, he resorts to stretching,” Enough with the titles. We're equals aren't we?”

Genos pauses,” You mock me.”

It's not angry, or accusing. Genos sounds hurt and Saitama finds himself backpedaling hard,” No! That isn't-”

Genos rolls his shoulders,” It's of no matter. I'll make you take me seriously.”

With a catlike flick of his tail, Genops launches at him, barreling at a high speed before he suddenly feints and Saitama is shoulder checked hard. He manages to put up his hands and skids far back, eventually letting his knees give enough that he can jog backwards as Genos pursues him.

Genos truly looks otherworldly and every bit the beast he is. The smoke he expels burns acrid down Saitama's throat and if he weren't stronger, his already thin brows would be singed. It smells of brimstone and ruin. Like charcoal and campfires. It makes Saitama's eyes water and coupled with the gleam of Genos's eyes Saitama is blinking rapidly, trying to make the tears fall or clear up. 

Dodging Genos's brutal swings comes easy to Saitama, who can see the intent of the movement before it even happens. The king seems to move sluggishly despite his increasing speed and it's easy for Saitama to track him. They are winding high and low across the dirt, until he realizes their movements have thrown up a huge cloud of dust. It mingles with Genos's smoke and Saitama can't see anything. Then, he sees a white hot glow, the increase of heat, he spins to catch the metal fist only to have to block the kick to his face before everything explodes into a torrent of flame and unbearable heat. Saitama's clothes catch fire and crumble away, he shuts his eyes, holding onto Genos so tight he risks reshaping the molten metal. Like an imploding star they burn.

When he opens his eyes, Genos is staring at him, mouth parted, eyes soft and unreadable. Saitama looks away and whistles at the surrounding field. They're standing in a large whorl of cooling grass.

“That's dangerous to light a fire in the woods.”

Genos ducks his head, shoulders and chest smoking and Saitama's eyes curve along the slope of his collarbone, along the smooth metal shaped in perfect imitation of muscles. Of the small diamond in the middle of Genos's sternum. Saitama leans close, to get a better look and realizes that yes, it's a port for a key.

Didn't someone say that Genos didn't need one?

He sleeps, doesn't need a key, is able to modify his body somehow, Saitama is sure of it from the time his legs seemed to be different, which was only further confirmed by Garou. In fact, Saitama pulls at his hand and Genos nearly falls into him, and he sees that yes, his hands were gold before, weren't they? Where were the spines that lined his back and tail now? Right now they were smooth and-

“Master Saitama?”

He startles at the tremble in Genos's voice and realizes he hasn't let go yet. He drops his hand and a breeze blows in from the west along his bare backside and he groans,” That was the only outfit I rather liked.”

He sees Genos's forked tongue dart out in a metal groan along his bottom lip and he says quietly,” The clothes are not to your liking?”

Saitama pales,” Uh what? No, no! I just-they're too uh, I mean-”

“Too many layers.” Genos blurts, and then his eyes flutter over Saitama briefly before he ducks his head into a fierce, almost frenzied affirmation,” And it's also summer! I will-yes! New clothes! Excuse me, Master Saitama!”

Saitama sees Genos retreat and notices the dents in his claws and grimaces,” Hey, your hand-”

He slips on the glass and lands bare-assed onto his backside. Smoke spills from the seams of Genos's metal in a hiss,” Of-Of course!”

Genos misinterprets Saitama's concern for his dents as a plea for a hand to steady him and immediately, Saitama regrets saying anything. Genos extends his hand and Saitama grasps his forearm to heft himself up. Under the pressure of Genos bracing himself with his taloned feet, the thin layer of glass shatters and fissures and Genos yanks Saitama up, against him to seemingly protect him from cuts he could never get.

Genos is warm.

He had expected the cold from the previous times they had touched, but right now his blood sings hot at everyplace they come into contact, only amplified by Saitama's lack of clothes. His skin uncomfortably breaks out in gooseflesh as he is braced to Genos's side and he squirms.

“You didn't cut yourself did you?” Genos asks worriedly and Saitama feels the hum of his deep timbre through his metal straight to thrum against his skin. He shakes his head, not trusting his voice and Genos slips a hand round his waist before he leaps clear of the newly made and broken glass.

Saitama breaks free of his hold as soon as they land and Genos makes no attempt to hold him there. Why would he? His eyes aren't even on him, looking to the whorl of molten sand,” I...need to get stronger...but...”

Genos looks pointedly at him, and Saitama can barely look back, his body still...

“I can't ever imagine meeting the strength of a wizard with my current abilities.”

A what.

“I have much to think upon and will take my leave.” Genos drops his gaze, looking almost bashful if Saitama didn't think better of it,” Thank you for today.”

Saitama wants to call out to him, but his brain is screaming at him to shut up before he makes it worse. However, not denying it here and now vehemently and openly is a worse lie than denying his lineage. Head reeling, he can only think that Genos has once again raised the bar.

He says nothing and shudders against the wind. Genos forgot his cast aside cloak and he wraps it round his waist before throwing open the door and heading inside. He dashes straight to his room to change into his armor before he heads to the charcoal painting. He won't think about earlier. He refuses to put words to whatever turmoil is broiling in the back of his mind.

He thinks of all the keys in ports, the people sleeping and knows of only one that he has successfully woken. He's half-way through the maze before he remembers that there are two people who have woken from sleep:

Genos and Psykos.

He lifts a hand at Geryuganshoop's greeting and wishes he were smarter. Wishes he could discuss the things he does know. That the words did not twist and coil into puzzles for which he cannot name or solve.

He should have talked with Genos about how it was he was able to wake. Why he didn't need a key. Not about lodestars and history.

He's never been one for conversation, but being barred from it makes him lonely. His brother would be able to solve this. Oh.

“Hey uh, Geryuganshoop?”

The wraith startles from his place floating over the lake and gapes at him,” Oh. My name...you got it right!”

Saitama can't help but grin sheepishly,” Did I now?”

“You did! Well what is it?” the wraith seems more eager to listen to him and is casting off more light than usual.

“Can you call my br-can you call Sir Royale?”

“Oh? You need him for something?”

“This is a puzzle.” Saitama says and suddenly the wraith's face lights up in understanding.

“Of course!”

Saitama fiddles with gears and cogs, eats a wafer and eventually takes a short nap before his brother arrives. King steps into the crypt form the gloom of the hallway, gears spinning audibly and face deceptively impassive. The whirring rattle of his gears gives him away and the tell-tale thunder of his heart sells out how nervous he is to be here.

“What took you so long?”

King takes a shaky and maybe unnecessary breath before speaking and Saitama knows that if he were still flesh, he'd be sweating profusely,” I don't like dark places and I um, anyway, you have a puzzle?”

“Ye-” Saitama is cut off by the chime of noontime. He curses and slings King over his shoulder and races through the hallway, feeling a sense of deja vu.

King shrieks, then quickly gives up,” I'm gonna be sick! Ohnonononono-”

“Can you even get sick like this?” Saitama trots to a halt in front of the door and King scrambles down and lands on his rear,” I dunno, don't wanna find out what the-hell-are-you-”

Saitama turns King's head,” Watch the door! The pieces and-” he points to that ever-spinning piece because his voice snags in his throat.

There's clicking and groaning as the pieces spin closed and interlock like the lacing of fingers. King does as he's told and Saitama feels hope lift his heart as King's bewildered gaze becomes entranced and thoughtful.

The door stops its moving and Saitama waits for a full minute before he's asking,” Well?! Did you get it?!”

King looks at him from his place on the floor, face grim,” What the hell was I suppose t'be looking for?”

Saitama wants to throttle him,” ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“Well what do you want from me? What am I supposed to understand from watching this door close? Mind you, I just showed up and you don't even pose a question or anything. Like, do you wanna know what pieces keep the door shut? What the timer is? What opens it? What?”

“I don't know what I don't know.” Saitama says and his brother sighs.

“Is this it, or was there something else?”

“Oh! Yeah! Right! C'mon!” King tries to crawl away, but Saitama throws him over his shoulder and heads back to the crypts to set him down in front of his latest project.

“Watch.” Saitama says but King makes him wait a moment so he can get his bearings, then nods and Saitama starts manipulating the inner workings of a man's torso, then winds the key forward and back to show King the range of movement just the key gets.

His brother hums,” So you're implying the door and these are connected. And how?”

Saitama goes to speak, but King's muttering to himself,” If they're really the same, then there should be a perpetually moving gear that manipulates the rest...and that spiral gear needs to be rewound and set so...yes, that one...this there...even if you...”

“Well?!”

“Shut up, I'm thinking.” King mutters and Saitama leaves him be. Finally, King is taking this seriously. For Saitama, thinking has always been heavy lifting, which is why he let King do it.

“Man, I missed you, y'kow that?”

King grimaces,” Missed your company. Not the trouble you bring with it, little bro.”

Saitama laughs,” Yeah, sure.”

“This is going to take a while, come back later.”

“How later?”

“Much later. I'll ask Geryuganshoop to get you.”

Saitama side eyes his brother,” You better not get sidetracked playing mental chess or whatever it is you bookworm shut-ins do.”

King scowls,” Go bother Genos or something.”

Saitama tries to keep his face neutral, a trait he and his brother share,” Fine.”

King waves him off and Saitama rolls his eyes, a little irritated. What should he do? There's no way he'll see what Genos is up to after he said all of that...stuff. He can't help but wonder if Genos really thinks he has magic and why? Even if he did, learning spells had never helped Saitama. He had spent most of his teenage years in the quartz quarries, practicing casting until he was hoarse...

He shakes away those lingering thoughts in a panic.

None of that.

Perhaps Psykos knows why she was able to wake when the others were not. Resolved to look for her, he calls out her name louder and louder as he heads through the castle, sure to inter-mix Fubuki's name with it.

“OI CAN YOU SHUT UP!?”

He hears scattered giggling as he rounds the corner and is met with the odd sight of Garou shepherding a gaggle of seven or eight children and Rover who wags his tail and runs circles around them. The teenager steps in front of them as if to shield them and hisses,” They're in the southern tower, now shut yer yap and get moving out of earshot, egghead. You're disrupting Zenko's practice.”

Before Saitama can yell that Garou is the bald one, the teenager stomps off and the children follow him, the younger ones clinging to the long ties on his pants. It's odd that they trust someone with that kind of temperament to watch children, but Saitama supposes he really doesn't know anything about the boy despite meeting him before.

It was when he had passed through one of the busier cities a few months later that he had heard the news that not long after Saitama had destroyed the Sky Rock, Garou had destroyed Silver Fang's band of fighters. It was one of the old guild members that had informed him that Charanko was the remaining disciple.

He hadn't given it much more thought than that, but now he called after him,” Garou!”

The boy didn't so much as look back, but Saitama called out,” I wanted to speak with you too!”

“Keep wanting then!” was the answer before they disappeared behind a door. Rover, the traitor, follows them without so much as a backward glance and Saitama sighs before heading in what he believes to be a southern direction. He hears the clanging of steps behind him and hears Mumen,” Lord Saitama! Wait!”

“Huh? Mumen?”

“You missed breakfast and now, you-”

Saitama checks his pocket watch,” It isn't seven yet.”

“No, but it's the third day! And the doors have closed on you!”

“It takes Saitama a moment to understand why that's important,” I need to speak with Psykos first.”

“Can't it wait? It isn't worth risking your humanity is it?”

“Humanity huh...Either way, if I get caught up in this curse I'm going to break it anyway so...That doesn't really matter.”

The regent frowns,” Fine. Down this hallway and then left and another left. It's the door at the end long after the hallway goes from marble to stone. Don't think I've given up.”

“Sure, sure. I'll leave once I finish up.”

“Even if you don't, I'll drag you out _on time_ if I have to. Even once you turn, finding your key-I'm wasting your time. Go!”

Saitama is startled at the regent's uncharacteristic forcefulness and begins walking again. The regent runs the other way and Saitama notes the lurching of his gears. They weren't like that before. It worries him, but he pushes it out of his mind as he wonders what he should even ask Psykos.

He follows Mumen's directions and sure enough, the marble gives way to stonework and the castle is colder here. He sees his breath clouding in the frigid air and knows Fubuki is here.

He jogs down the hallway to the wooden door at the end. It's frozen shut, water pooling and freezing over and over in a frozen waterfall over it. A few heavy punches crack the ice, and one more shatters it, wood and all splintering and scattering into the stairwell beyond the door.

“Oops,” Saitama curses, as he steps over the door and knows it probably echoed up the stairwell and still there is no answer. He takes that first step on the stone stairs and nearly slips.

This is ice as well and he groans,” You gotta be kidding me.”

He secures his gloves and braces himself on the railing to keep himself upright as he climbs. Eventually, he finds that it's better to pull himself up using the raining as leverage and is extremely careful not to grip the railing so tight it breaks when he slips. It's slow going for three turns in the stairwell before he reaches the tower door. This too is frozen shut, and Saitama doesn't trust himself to let go the railing so he kicks at it with his heel over and over until he loses patience and finally shatters it with one big kick. He had intended to swing himself through the door way, but he's glad his reflexes are faster than his brain when a strong gust of wind buffets him like a flag in the wind and he clasps his hands tight on the railing.

He shouts over the wind, but can't even hear himself over the roar in his ears. Strength doesn't even matter if he can't brace himself against the floor. Even if he managed to punch against the wind of that gust he doesn't want there to be a tornado that rips the castle apart. 

“IT'S ME SAITAMA!”

Fubuki walks over to loom as a dark figure in the doorway,” Oh, what do you want?”

“Psykos is the only one that's woken from the curse and I want to know why!”

Fubuki frowns,” Well you were the one that woke her. Shouldn't _you_ know more than us?”

“I need all the help I can get honestly,” Saitama says and Fubuki nods knowingly with a smile,” Of course. Well come on then.”

Saitama is a bit reminded of Tornado Peak, though the receptions are different from the Southern Tower and he can't help the question,” What is with you Gorgons and high places fortified with wind?”

“You're the hunter,” Fubuki says,” Why would we need them?”

“You're being hunted now?”

“Exiled,” Fubuki corrects,” My godson is a meticulous planner and wants nothing in his way now that he has finally won.”

“Not that I could leave now anyway,” she mutters to herself and sighs softly,” Psykos, we have company.”

There's no answer and the Gorgon sighs,” I was there when she woke and have no idea myself, but maybe you can catch a lucid moment from her.”

“Lucid..?”

Fubuki's emerald eyes stare into his, and he's suddenly struck by her melancholy gaze,” She's a witch. You've never met one?”

“I just know they're the daughters of succubi. Seers and fortune tellers and stuff like that. Like...”

He remembers what the Prisoner Prince had said long ago,”Ah, like that Madame Baba! The famous one?”

“Madame Shibabawa?” Fubuki says with a raised brow and Saitama frowns,” Nah, that isn't it. She's the one that had that doomsday prediction and died or something.”

Fubuki presses a hand to her mouth but Saitama sees the edges of a smile,” Anyway, as a witch, Psykos has Truesight. A few years ago, she predicted our downfall and went a bit mad...You might not get anything out of her today or for weeks. That tower where you said you found Sir Metal Bat...she built that so we could sequester her away.”

And Saitama had destroyed it.

He couldn't bring himself to feel guilty about it when he had felt it was the right thing to do. Even if anyone hated him for it, he was sure of that.

“Take me to her.”

Fubuki steels her gaze and leads him up another flight of stairs into a round room. Psykos is hunched over a small table with a quill and ink, scribbling from the top of the page down to the very bottom and beginning again at a furious pace. Saitama's gut sinks.

He approaches Psykos carefully, but she does not look up from her scribbling.

He sits opposite her, and asks Fubuki,” What is she writing?”

“It's nonsense and scribbles...” Fubuki says quietly.

“But?”

Her voice falls to a whisper,” But sometimes...the lines move.”

Saitama's arm hair stands on end and he smooths it down, along with rubbing at the prickling sensation.

Magic.

Fortunes.

He slips off his glove and with it, he feels the dulled ice pick of fear stab at him, slowly tapping away at his spine. Like cold water washing through him. He shoves his hand at Psykos's pen hand and she rips a hole in the paper, coin eyes spinning sluggishly in the pits of her sockets.

She drops the pen, to take his hand and shivers,” Fortune's favorite.”

The words sound foreign in her mouth and even though they're speaking the same language, Psykos's words stop and enunciate in odd places as if every syllable is an effort.

She slurs drunkenly, holding his hand with two hands now,” It's the cheater. The star.”

“What,” Saitama starts, but she looks him in his eyes and her face looks so much like a skull in the low light of the room.

Psykos blinks once, twice, then,” Oh. It's you.”

Saitama shrugs helplessly,” Yeah.”

Psykos holds her head in her free hand,” You saved me again...I need to...repay you? Is that what you think?”

“No, I just need your help. Any you can give me.”

Psykos looks at him,” You borrowed these eyes. Where are mine?”

“I really don't know; I made do.”

Psykos nods,” And your hand? It's healed.”

“Genos.” he answers and she fixes him with her coin eyes. 

“This was no ordinary wound I dealt you. It was a hint and now you've wasted it.”

Saitama's stomach flips and he stands,” How!? How is that injury a hint!?”

“You passed my test, but you've given back your hard earned gift and now what will you do?”

Fubuki steps forward, shoulders thrown back and voice commanding,” Psykos. Explain.”

The woman's mouth twists and she turns to Fubuki,” It's not that simple my lady. I cannot say or else I should share the same fate as our recently departed Sonic.”

Saitama flinches, and Psykos lets go his hand. He had known that he was the cause, but hearing it his gut twists. Mouth souring, he asks still,” You have no more for me?”

Psykos opens her mouth, then shuts it,” Please leave. Thank you for dispelling my...sickness. Thank you.”

“How did I-”

“ _You have but to be here, Lord Zedread. Such is your fate to draw misery like poison to thine own mouth to spit back at the world and yet remain unharmed. Fortune favors you in this way...this is my fortune for you._ Now make thy way forth, sir, knowing more than you had.”

Psykos smiles at him, coin eyes turning in their pits, and he goes. Another of Death's cohorts has used their gift, but he doesn't understand. None of it makes sense and he feels that anyone else in his shoes would take these things and start drawing lines between them.

He's pondering the witches words, his legs bringing him round the castle in circles much like the ones his mind is chasing.

“Such is your fate to suck poison huh. What a load of...”

He groans, shakes his head and is startled when he hears muffled barking. It must be Rover. Hadn't Rover been in the castle too? Why hadn't he changed as well? Did the curse only work on humans? He walked toward the room and heard something he hadn't in years.

The soft plink of keys built, one chord after another into a crescendo of powerful sound that stilled his heart. Saitama did not know how long he stood there, bathing in the frantic, exciting chords of the piano, stilling his lungs so that he wouldn't miss a single note before he remembered to breathe. It became a conscious thing even when the notes slowed to a lazy drawl. He hadn't known that a piano _could_ sound lazy. It idled into a single note, then thrummed uncertainly and petered off into a silence that rang as empty, empty, empty. Saitama's eyes fluttered open and he was unsure when he had closed them. His eyes scanned the hallway, sure that the sound came from the door ahead, to the left of the hallway, but when he thought of moving to it, his gut clenched. Scalp prickling, he pulled up his hood, crouched behind the wall at the mouth of the hallway and waited.

The piano sounded again, harsh and concordant with the impatient tempo of his heart before they again, trailed off as if the pianist was uncertain how to proceed. There was a drum of the same note before they picked up the score again from the top.

Practicing?

Following that melody was a simpler one, notes sharp and certain, but lacking the flow it had before. The melody changed to a the previous melody though slower and occasionally off-key before they began from the top.

Two different pianists?

He lay in wait a long time, uncertain what he was waiting for, only that the thought of being seen made his skin rise in gooseflesh. He trusted his gut if nothing else, so he continued to wait, eyes trailing the plush carpets threaded with gold, the black sconces, the heavy, velvet curtains that barred light from the hallway. Just when he thought he'd fall asleep to the sound of the piano, the door opened.

Saitama froze as Garou quietly closed the door behind himself, and slunk away. The piano went on unsteadily and so did Saitama, at a distance.

He followed Garou from one hallway to another, only to suddenly stop suddenly when he heard Badd scream down the halls,” OI! IF YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST LEAVE ME WITH THE KIDS AND THINK I GOT NUTHIN' T' SAY ABOUT IT YOU'RE MORE OF A BONEHEAD THAN I THOUGHT! JERK!”

Garou snarled, turning abruptly and Saitama was glad he had hung back far enough to have long been hidden at the edge of the hallway as the boy screams back,” YOU FORGET I HAD THEM FOR MONTHS WHILE YOU WERE STUCK IN THAT TOWER, IDIOT! I'M SURE YOU CAN MANAGE FOR HALF A DAY!”

“OH GO TO HELL!”

“LADIES FIRST!”

“Y'KNOW WHAT? DON'T COME BACK! SEE IF I CARE!”

Garou took a deep, unneeded breath before turning on his heel and stomping off with a mutter under his breath about being his own damn boss and useless knights minding their own business. Saitama vaguely wondered if it was such a good idea for two hot-blooded young men to be looking after so many children in the first place.

Garou wound through the castle for a time, before he reached the foyer. Saitama had to wait a while to be sure he wasn't caught in the open space and only saw a flash of white on the opposite side on the opposite side of the upper landing.

Was Garou allowed in the West Wing?

He turned back.

Did Genos know he went into the West Wing?

Did Geryuganshoop?

Saitama felt as if the sky was going to fall in on him at any moment as he approached the West Wing door. Heart throbbing hot in his pounding temples, he knew that if he were found out, Genos would not be forgiving. He had forgiven the roses, he meted out punishment for the deer, but this...

Genos had explicitly said that this was the one place where he was not allowed to be.

The way Genos had roared his declaration had Saitama hesitating though he felt somewhere outside of himself that he must press forward. He _must_.

It felt like the right thing to do, though he knew Genos would hate him.

Wasn't that for the better?

_No._

His hands curls over the handle of the great wooden door that was just like any other in the castle and yet, feels so heavy as he pulls it.

He thinks of Genos in the library, looking somehow soft, despite his beastly visage and wonders.

_What did I even want to do? Reaching out like that?_

Reaching for not his arm or shoulder.

He pretends not to know.

He eases the door open and slips inside the darkness of the hallway beyond.

After only a few paces, he realizes that the West Wing is a direct mirror to the East Wing. It has the same layout, although there is no dust. There is no light here.

Where has Garou gone? He takes care to tread lightly. The floor is uncarpeted. He startles at the sudden burst of light from the hallway sconces and sees the scuffs and gouges in the floor. Likely from metal claws and feet.

Saitama takes a deep breath. The air here is oaky and almost sweet. Carefully, Saitama opens the first door he sees. If the layout is the exact same, this will be a bedchamber. He's surprised at the open curtain. There's a small bookshelf that is nearly empty. The bedsheets are piled messily at the foot of the bed and spill to the floor. Saitama sees a pale shift laid out over a chair at the desk to the left of the window and curiously crosses over to it. The shift is laid over a uniform and he notes the clothes are a stewardess's dress with a high collar and simple cut typical of the profession. Saitama sees even with the sun sinking low that the sunlight has bleached the wood over a long period of time.

He turns to leave when he sees the opposite side of the bed and blanches.

The wood beside the bed is stained dark. Like something had lain there and pooled.

He doesn't know why that unsettles him except, if this person was a steward, wouldn't they avoid letting a spill sit long enough to ruin the wood of a room owned by their employer? Why wouldn't they replace the wood?

He leaves the room, shutting the door before moving on to the next.

There are other rooms. They are still, with beds made and looking unlived in, but clean of any dust or dirt. It's as he turns a corner that Saitama sees the tea set. It's been dropped in the middle of the hallway, metal pot and spoons scattered. The cups are in pieces.

There's no tea, but the carpet is stained. It's clean, but stained and Saitama steps closer only to stop in his tracks. The wall is stained. He follows the spatter to the faint marks and color that dot the ceiling in a spray. The tea had been dropped but this...

Saitama has seen this and his stomach drops.

He steps over the tea set.

A door has been ripped from its hinges in the next hallway.

There are papers scattered across the room and Saitama notes the blackened stains on the pages. He tries to lift them carefully, but they are stuck to the floor and rip. The bookshelf has been emptied, but a pot of ink lies close, overturned. It has stained everything under it, but the room is still free of dust. The air is fresh and not stale in the slightest as it would be from disuse.

Nothing has been moved in a long time, but the lack of dust tells that things have been moved to clean under them at least, only to be put back in the exact same place?

No.

That doesn't seem right but he moves on.

There's a nursery, toys scattered about the toy chest half-crushed and splintered. The crib has been overturned and Saitama retreats quickly, not liking the connections he's making as he makes them.

A ripped open door that looks as if furniture had been propped up against it and shoved aside with the swing of the door.

A rope of clothes tied together. Large pools of dark stains. A journal left open to dry. A painting sketched out and half painted. An empty armory. Deep gouges in the walls that Saitama feels are familiar though he can't place why. A doll left behind in the hallway. Torn down paintings. Ripped curtains. Broken vases, Flowers left to dry out before they could be pressed into a book. An outfit laid out for the day. A dropped chandelier. The melted frame of a window. A crumpled doorknob. Barred doors broken in and things left scattered, broken, half done, but dust free.

It has all been painstakingly preserved as it is.

It remains a reminder of something terrible that Saitama refuses to name.

It's then, as he's headed toward the Western Tower, that he happens upon a work room. It's large, piled high and crammed with books and scrolls along the back wall. It's what is on the remaining walls and worktable that gives Saitama pause as the room lights up.

On the worktable is a ripped up painting. The frame has been shattered, except the upperhalf of it which frames the upper half of a familiar looking painting. Saitama steps closer, notes the intricately carved, gilded frame, and sees a familiar set of eyes on him. They are a golden hazel, light in color. The gaze is soft, kind, but the rest of the face has been shredded. It's a sideways swipe, cutting right beneath the crowned head's eyes and swept back gold hair. There's the top of a dark head of hair. The only other pieces are laying right beneath. A smiling youth with gold eyes and hair, and part of his shoulder where a strong hand lays atop an elegant one, their matching betrothal rings glinting bright.

It's the missing painting and as he looks around, he feels sickened by the hundreds of sketches tacked onto the walls haphazardly. As he steps back to take in the sight, he steps on yet more papers and sees scribbled out half sketches. Over and over are those eyes of the painting. Over and over have the features beneath been guessed at, redrawn. The woman especially has been recreated over and over, with a round face, high cheekbones, prominent nose, and as his eyes trail to the walls he sees several pages that are ripped up sketches pasted together to form an amalgamate picture. Things have been circled with annotations written next to them.

_I have my mother's nose, but what else?_

It's scrawled there and Saitama doesn't read anymore.

He steps back, chest tight and wonders if he should press on at all. He shuts the door, thinking that the boy in the painting must be Genos. A young Genos.

What use is a picture of yourself?

Of all the paintings to be destroyed in the tragedy, it had to be that one.

Perhaps the attack had been personal, even if the violence seemed indiscriminate...

This was the royal quarter of the castle and someone had killed everyone in it. Everyone except Genos and the scant few that survived.

Saitama didn't want to go on. It was an invasion of privacy. Now he knew that Genos had preserved this place with magic. Genos didn't even know what his own parents looked like anymore. He felt sick, realizing that this place was where Genos retreated to. This was the place he stayed without company for months, according to his people.

His face is a bit round in the painting, eyes big and the same tawny gold as the eyes above him. His hair looks like windswept, spun gold. He's a healthy tan, which is unusual for a painting. To be tan is to work in the sun, it's distinctly working class, but the painter went as far as to include the faint smattering of freckles of his nose, the pink of the ears. He looks on the verge of smiling, creases right under his lower lids and the crook in the corner of the boy's otherwise flat mouth.

Saitama doesn't know why he isn't surprised. Yes, he knows it's Genos.

But the Genos he knows hints nothing to looking like the kid in this painting. Yet, it's familiar.

It flits at the edges of his memory like a forgotten dream-

_He said nothing again, even as he left his room and packed to run away, except this time, when he left, there was a young man outside the castle._  
_He was fair skinned, and honey-eyed. And suddenly Saitama reached for his sword as the eyes changed._  
_They were blood-red._  
_The youth was bleached of all color, becoming Death, who laughed at him._

He leaves the room, heart cold. Without hesitation, he heads to the West Tower. He's neither Seer, nor Soothsayer, but Death does not visit one idly.

He knows that now. It's a message, albeit hamfisted, it shakes him.

Even he cannot misunderstand such a threat posed as an inevitability.

He goes further in.

Soon the corridor he's in turns to stone as he nears the edges of the castle near the Western Tower and he arrives at the door. It's the same as the other door opposite the castle, but he wonders what new horrors, if any await him.

He throws open the door so like the other one in the guard tower, but what he sees gives him pause. There's soot in a thin layer here. The blackened soot not present in the clean halls of the painstakingly preserved West Wing. He swallows hard and does something he would have never thought to do before .

He casts a spell of light in a place of evil, dark magic.

Saitama has never been able to grasp the concept of magic. It requires recollection, being able to use memories to feel a certain way, and he has never understood it. The light doesn't come. Grumbling to himself he mutters darkly,” Wizard huh? How the hell did he come up with that?”

His hair stands on end the way his voice comes out muffled. Instead of echoing up it sounds far away and too soft. Feeble.

He remembers his exasperated teacher asking him again and again: _What is light to you?_

Candles. Sconces. The sun. The stars.

He tromps up the stairs, heart sinking. It's a feeling he's used to. The speed at which his mood drops is likely due to breathing in the soot his boots kick up. No matter what his answer, the result was the same resounding failure.

He thinks of the way Genos can cast his nonverbal spells as easily as breathing and thinks it's nothing short of amazing. He can't begin to imagine the life of a wizard's apprentice. He thinks of the way Genos's flame had turned the very sand they fought on into molten glass.

The way the sun glints off his armor. The way his eyes gleam. The way he speaks abruptly, and almost tersely. Even if Saitama is half listening, his intonation and timbre is like its own-

He tries to focus on climbing and attempting the spell. It reminds him of when he was younger and he finds his steps becoming heavy. He remembers finding that large vein of quartz in his hideout. Even then, nothing.

His head sags heavy and he rubs his eyes blearily. He doesn't mean to rub them so hard they leave spots that sway across his vision and stay. Saitama knows as soon as he crosses it, the residual effects of such magic will pass. It's much like the bridge that separates the woods from Kuseno's village.

The sun. The stars.

“ _Luminate. Luma. Sol. Solar._ ”

Each variation falls flat and Saitama sighs.

His mind is stuck on how easily Genos lets flame roll off of him like an elemental. Of white and red-orange playing across black metal and reflecting warm like embers in his gold eyes.

“ _Illuminate._ ”

It's like a moment of clarity when you're dead drunk and Saitama very nearly slips. The spots in his vision clear and the hallway is bright as if Saitama were holding the sun itself. Except the light hasn't appeared in his hand at all. It seems to be above him. He scratches at his scalp in wonder and sees his hand cast a shadow.

“No.”

The light is casting off of his bald head.

Cursing colorfully, Saitama kills the light and stomps up the stairs furiously. The wonder at finally casting light has faded into rage that drives him faster up the pitch black of the stair well. Time seems to lurch forward now that his head is clear and he throws open the door. The loud ticking that assaults his ears sounds thunderous compared to the quiet of the blackened stairwell and the hunter winces.

Recovering quickly, he sees that the stairwell of the West Tower rings a great, black pit. He very nearly turns back, not bothering to cross the long, blackened wooden catwalk above it. He sees no need to cross to the middle when you could merely ring the edges of the pit without setting foot there on what might be rotted away or cursed. He debates casting the spell again, just to avoid the slowing effect of the dark magic before he sees Garou.

His white pants are marked with soot, his hands are black claws that crackle with energy. Saitama almost calls out, but Garou reaches above himself, to the rafters with a hiss,” Talk. I _know_ you can.”

Something clatters like a stone across pavement, then again hollowly like wooden wind chimes and Saitama draws forward. As soon as he sets foot on the bridge, Garou's yellow eyes flick to him,” _You._ What are you doing here!? Why-”

“I could ask you the same.” Saitama says and Garou falls quiet.

“I'm here for a reason,” the boy sneers,” You're just a busybody snoop. Go back!”

Saitama finds to his surprise that the walkway is solid, but the depths below are emitting a damp, humid warmth. Almost as if the magic itself were breathing. Saitama tears his eyes away to be where Garou is and the boy growls,” I SAID GO!”

Saitama rolls his eyes,” Didn't say please.”

“LIKE HELL I'LL-”

“Then I _stay_.” Saitama snaps, then quieter,” Mumen said you knew how to break this curse, or knew something that would help?”

Garou stares at him, face unreadable, before he blinks once and replies evenly,” I broke my curse. They can't be much different. Now just-”

“That doesn't make any sense,” Saitama bluffs cooly, even as he cobbles together sentences he's heard from Kuseno and Genos to spew from his mouth,” When there's two types of magic and different intents, how can you know? I mean...Kuseno uh, changed it right? So it isn't completely one type or the other?”

Garou looks at him, mouth parting in surprise, before he barks out a coarse, hacking laugh,” You have no idea what you're saying and yet you still go at it!”

He heaves another pained-sounding wheeze before he snickers,” You don't understand what you're saying because it's actually rather...” Garou squints,” Insightful.”

Saitama has no idea what that word means and it must show on his face because Garou's grin pulls wide across his mouth wolfishly. He goes back to reaching into the low hanging rafters of the roof, when Saitama sees the body.

There's a person hanging above them.

He leaps up, grabbing a wooden beam to hoist himself up and the teenager below hisses soimething, but Saitama is already jumping again to lift himself onto the next beam. The person is a ball-jointed thing made of some black material. A shock of dark hair messily sticks out in every direction like they've been struck by lightning and Saitama climbs above once more to the beam that they're hanging from.

He has no knife. Knowing they don't need to breathe helps his decide to pull them up by the rope onto the rafter. When they're secure, Saitama rips through the thick coil with his teeth and frantically unwinds it from their neck,” Hello? Are you okay?”

To do this, knowing that at anytime the curse can be broken, but also knowing you won't die unless it is. It makes his gut roil. He sweeps away their wild hair with a gloved hand and is startled by the mask.  
It's white and fully covers the face from forehead to chin in a solid, straight plane that makes no room for a nose, the slope of a forehead, the bump of a chin. Nothing.

“Idiot! You saved a damned doll! It's not alive you fool!” Garou roars and Saitama's brow furrows in thought.

Ball jointed. Face plate. There's a single eye in its face that seems to be made of polished ebony. The hair is real, or at least looks so. Curious, he pulls off a glove with his teeth and runs a hand over the odd texture of the solid material the doll is made of. He catches a glint of red and looks up. He squawks and drops the doll, unsettled by the dead gaze of its single red iris, and jumps down right after it clatters onto the catwalk below. He sheepishly meets Garou's glare,” You gotta admit it's kind of creepy.”

Garou says nothing, hefting it up in one hand and shaking it,” Speak.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Not you imbecile, the doll. It speaks. I _heard_ it.”

Saitama can't believe what he's heard,” Are you sure?”

Garou snarls, stalking up to Saitama and seeming to take obvious glee at the fact he towers over him,” I heard it. That day you arrived I heard it speak.”

“Well...what'd it say?”

Garou turns his head, loping off to pace madly,” 'Finally.' it said. While the brats were at lessons I would try and get it to speak again but-”

Garou stops suddenly and lifts the doll before his face before setting it down and beckoning Saitama over. He crouches on the opposite side and Garou commands him,” You're a hunter. Tell me what you think this mask is made of. I couldn't...get a good look before because if Genos comes here I didn't want him to know by my moving it, but now...”

“You saying I helped you?” Saitama grins and Garou's eyes narrow before the hunter huffs a laugh and pulls off his glove with teeth before tucking it into his belt,” Let's see...”

Upon touching it, he's sure it's human hair. He brushes it away from its eye and is startled by the feel of the mask against the back of his hand and must touch it with the pads of his fingertips,” Hair. And Bone.”

Even in the dim light, Saitama can feel the uneven texture, the striated patterns of whorls of wood,” Petrified wood.”

“Quartz.” Garou says and Saitama removes his hand as if burned and stands,” What!?”

“The hell's gotten into y-It moved.”

“Don't mess with me bastard!”

“IT'S EYE GODDAMNED MOVED YOU STUPID-”

_Blood._

Saitama moves aside, staggering at the sound of that raspy voice in his head. It curls cold in his mouth, making his tongue feel foreign and useless.

_It wakes us._

Saitama tries to step over the doll to avoid a sudden punch from Garou and he sees that single red eye move to follow him.

Petrified wood. Hair. Bone. All things that were once living...

_Blood! BLOOD! YOUR BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOO-_

The voice echoes into the pit and somehow reverberates louder. The crisp rasp of its voice cuts over his eardrums and makes them ache to pop.

Garou whimpers, hands over his ears as he curls in on himself and Saitama does the only thing he can think to. He kicks it over the edge of the catwalk and into the pit. The doll grabs his ankle and hangs there as he tries to shake it off. That unthinking gaze falls on him again and he sees that the red of his eye is the Quartz he's used to. A conduit.

_THEGIRLHERGIFTYOURBLOODBLOODBLOODIT SINGSBLOODYOURBLOODYOURLIFEFOROURSYOURBLOODUNDERSTANDTHATHEWATCHESBLOODBLOODYOURBLOODLIKEACOLLECTIONOFDOLLSYOURBLOODBLOODBLOODBL-_

He lashes out, kicking it in the head and the gem shatters. It tumbles down its face in pieces and the doll grips tighter on his boot.

_UNDERSTANDUNDERST-_

With a roar of pain, Garou delivers a series of sinuous jabs and finally, the doll lets go of its own accord.

The further it falls down the pit, the more unrecognizable the words become. Soon, they must flee because Saitama's ears are bleeding. They scale the stairs quickly. Heart actually pounding, and breaking out into a cold sweat, Saitama barrels into the West Wing and Garou falls to his knees, retching. Nothing comes up, of course, but he's doubled over.

“It was a necromancer's revnant.” Saitama pants,” Petrified wood, bone, hair.” He ticks them out on his fingers,” They all used to be living things.”

“What the hell are you talking about now?” Garou groans, holding his head between his knees as he retches again.

“You know. Necromancer? They re-alive dead stuff?”

Garou takes a gulp of unneeded breath before shooting him an unimpressed look,” Re. Alive.”

Saitama almost answers before he realizes that he doesn't know how long he has been here. He might have missed his brother looking for him. He might have missed _Mumen_ looking for him.

“We can talk of this later. We have to go.”

Garou narrows his eyes, but says nothing and lopes off ahead. He dusts off his pants as he goes and Saitama notices that he himself is soot-free. Again, Kuseno's enchantments amaze him.

“You can't just throw that soot anywhere you like. This place is spotless and you're leaving a trail!”

Garou shoots him a brief look over his shoulder, snorting,” Exactly. It's spotless here because of magic. It's not like Genos meticulously scrubs this place by hand. It will disappear.”

Still, watching Garou brush himself off and ruin the hard work, makes Saitama uneasy. Still, he follows him.

Garou steps over the scattered objects with practiced ease and Saitama asks,” Have you ever looked in the rooms?”

“No, they're locked shut.”

What. “You mean you've never tried?”

“Did you? You can't just break that level of enchantment, and to be honest, it's not worth finding a piece of quartz, storing your energy for days, and trying it out when the real source of the curse is at the end of the West Wing anyway.”

He doesn't tell Garou that he had just opened it. He doesn't even know what that would mean for him. He's never really thought about the way magic doesn't affect him, but now he wonders why. It's come in handy more times than he can count, sure, but he just assumed the spell casters were weak, he had trained himself too strong...Either or.

He and Garou finally reach the exit and he sees the younger man hesitate. He pulls side the collar of his loose shirt to check a clock at his breast and curses, turning around,” It's past seven. Genos will probably expect you at dinner right? You haven;t shown so he'll probably head back here-”

“It's my third day past noon, so I was supposed to leave today. I'm sure Mumen told Genos.”

Garou stares at him in shock, before his silvery hands scrape across the wild tufts of his hair,” You stupid-ugh we have to go a different way! Genos is probably here!”

His voice is a soft hiss, yellow eyes wide in fear and Saitama considers their options before announcing,” Be quiet.”

Before he can protest, Saitama throws him over his shoulder and ducks into that first room. Since the curtain is already drawn, he can open the window without difficulty, and he'll have left the castle. It's a win-win, he figures.

Garou stays quiet, although there's a soft intake of air that indicates his surprise when they enter the stewardess's room. The hunter closes the door behind him then crosses it quickly to open the window and leap out, realizing too late that he'll be unable to close the window and bar it behind them. He lands in the grass and as soon as his feet touch, Garou is launching himself from Saitama's grip like he's caught fire,” YOU. What the hell _are_ you!? Punching the Sky Rock I get. That's strength but that-Genos is almost a wizard. A _High_ wizard at that and your some damned nobody! With that kind of power why the hell was Zedread wiped from the goddamned map!?”

Saitama winces and Garou takes a breath to pace. He barks out a harsh laugh,” You don't have an answer to that? Typical politician. You _are_ a prince aren't you?”

“There was just, no more quartz. That was our export and it suddenly...it was unusable. A lot of people's livelihoods were ruined.”

“Quartz...like what that thing was made of.”

“Yeah.”

“How'd you figure it was a dead thing? You realize that that guy was Metal Knight's squire right?”

“Who?”

Garou sighs,” He's the other missing knight, The Tactician. Although, he went to look for his key and never came back. We figured...you know, that he died.”

“No one looked for him?”

“Sonic combed the entirety of the woods. As did Badd, but they figured he went further for some reason.”

Saitama hums thoughtfully,” Did the squire...always look like that?”

“No, but he always wore a suit of armor. I never saw his face.”

“You called him a doll.”

“Well, he didn't have a key did he? And yet he spoke. He would never talk as long as I knew him. He disappeared with Metal Knight, but turns out he was there and why? Did Genos know? Is that why it's forbidden?”

Saitama thinks it's more about preserving the memory of what happened there, but shrugs,” Do you think Genos knows about the pit?”

Garou snorts,” It's the only unsealed door besides the entrance. How couldn't he? It definitely has something to do with all of this.”

“That thing...It kept saying 'blood' over and over. Creepy.”

Garou eyes him warily,” Not just that. It was looking at _you_ it said 'your blood'.”

“What ever that means.”

Garou mutters lowly to himself,” 'Your blood'. 'It wakes us'. 'Your life for ours.' 'Understand that he watches'. 'Like a collection of dolls.'”

Saitama looks at him skeptically,” He didn't say all that.”

Rolling his eyes, the young man says,” Some of us use our heads for more than blinding their opponents.”

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING BALD!”

“I didn't say that. You did.” Garou cackles.

“Well guess who's not entering the castle until midnight!”

The boy's eyes widen,” There's no way in right now.”

“I can open the door easy! Have fun outside!”

Garou stumbles over his own feet in a mounting panic, voice coming out as a snarl,” You can't!”

Saitama rounds the castle until he finds the stained glass door and let's Garou dart ahead despite his threat of,” We'll talk about this later!”

Hopefully his brother figured something out while he was gone. He rushes to the foyer, ignoring Mumen's shout of,” You haven't left?! Saitama!”

He lifts the painting up and makes haste through the hallway. He winds through the hallway a bit longer than usual, ruminating upon the words of the revnant.

What was a revnant doing here anyway? Why did a knights squire become a revnant instead of an automaton like the others? Flesh should have become metal.

Unless he had never been flesh to begin with.

Obviously he was reanimated parts, but did that mean the knight he belonged to made him? Had he always been that way?

It raised too many questions.

Saitama knew that necromancy was more from his side of the continent because of the abundance of quartz and mines. People feared necromancers holing up in caves nearby the cities and towns would usually hire guilds to clear out empty quarries of people and creatures for this exact reason.

With Zedread's downfall, necromancers were also on the decline. At least so Saitama thought. If he thought about it, his journey west could have less necromancers merely because it was an eastern thing.

He also hadn't known that petrified wood was a form of quartz. If he had known, he would have never touched the revnant with his bare hand. Living or dead, Saitama wasn't comfortable taking someone's life. Luckily, it seemed that the revnant's soul was probably stored in the pink quartz that made its iris.

Saitama wiped at his ear with his bare hand and was relieved the blood from his ears had dried up. He rubbed it off and it crumbled away easy enough before he finally entered the crypt.

“Saitama!”

“Lord Saitama! Lord Genos and the Lord Regent were looking for you earlier so they could make you leave before-”

Saitama waves him off,” I already stepped out for a bit.”

Geryuganshoop frowns,” You should leave until past midnight just to be safe.”

Saitama shrugs,” K-rrOYALE! Did you figure out anything!?”

King shrugs from his place beside one of the prone automatons,” I looked at all of them and even looked at the door again and I can say for sure that uh, that perpetually moving cog is definitely moved by magic and uh, that they have the same number of grooves. Sorry, I'd have more, but I...”

Saitama just sighs, deciding to take one more look himself.

Saitama doesn't know what he's looking for, but he's got the chest pulled open and suddenly, he's moving struts, unwinding cogs and he sees a flash of movement. Intrigued, he delicately grips a strut and moves it clockwise, counter-clockwise and he sees through a gap, that same, continuous movement. With his gloves on, his fingers are too thick, but if he removes them, just _barely_ ...He pulls it off with teeth quickly so he can jab his index finger back in to see if he can touch the spinning gear-

“Ouch!...What the-”

It hurts.

His finger stings, and he pulls it back to see his seemingly untouched finger before the blood wells up. Across the flat of it, his finger has been scored through in a curve of coincentric lines. He gapes at the pain, the blood, completely transfixed and in disbelief.

“It...cut me.”

He can't remember the last time something had cut him. The last time he had been hurt was when he had fallen on that statue in the caldera of Tornado Peak. No, when Psykos had drawn blood.

His blood.

He hears a whir, louder than before and see the cogs of the person's face move, the hands twitch and he realizes that he knows this feeling. 

He remembers fingers running over that same gear in coincentric circles over and over, creating razor thin circles. All the blood spilled on that gear that spins without any help.

It's like he's in a dream, there only in spirit as his body moves of its own accord. Instead of breaking through the next person's chest, words spill from his lips like wine in reverse, leaving him more and more intoxicated the less of them there are. The bolts unbolt, screws dance from their holes and Saitama reveals that small, whirling disc and presses his finger to it. The pain is distant, and cold. He drifts like a ghost from person to person, vision flickering and spots growing blacker in the edges as the counter-curses leave him and he just moves. He sees Metal Bat rushing him, grabbing his arm and pulling, but Saitama is stronger. Garou leaps forward to deliver sinuous jabs targeting his pressure points, but something completely Other moves him and he knows that this was the parting gift.

He knows this now.

He knows this vital part to waking them and moves from body to body like a reverse reaper, giving life with the spill of his own.

He sees Rover attack and moves his lips, but his native tongue won't come to him. Even so, Rover's head snaps up and he presses close, growling at any that come near, but doesn't dare do more than growl and the regent pursues them warily.

Mumen tries to talk to him, worry obvious on his face but his sound is more akin to the low buzzing of a beehive than words. Saitama moves on, undeterred and Mumen grabs his hand. He feels a brief warmth and wishes he could thank Mumen for healing him.

Still, he moves metal, he finds the gear he needs and presses his finger down to cut.

He is halfway through the people when Mumen yells to Garou and the boy dashes off. Geryuganshoop opens his mouth in a piercing wraith wail, which Saitama knows should break any enchantment that alters free will, but this doesn't apply to Saitama.

Death has him, and he moves like a puppet on strings. His is lead by something from that other realm and he can feel the River around his legs. He can feel its numbing warmth. Its inviting depths. He searches the peripherals of his vision for Sonic, or at least what remains of him.

Sonic will ferry him, of that he is certain and that brings him some measure of peace even though his mind is anything but tranquil. If he had known that would be his last sunrise, than he would have stayed longer. He would have laughed off Genos's honeyed words and enjoyed the warmth and light.

If these were his final thoughts in this world than they should be honest ones. Perhaps he wouldn't be so bold as to praise the king in the same way, but perhaps he could admire him more honestly in the confines of his thoughts.

Genos was bright. Dazzling.

He was the most beautiful creature Saitama had ever laid eyes on, and he did not understand how something so horribly gnarled and misshapen could enchant him so. Perhaps it was part of the curse. Despite Genos's beastly visage, heroes would be drawn to him like flies into the web of a spider. Saitama had seen all manner of creatures both men and mer. He had seen the Blue Fairy, the Elven Folk, Great Dragons, Witches, Warlocks, Incubae, Succubi, and Gorgons now, and not one came close to the lethal beauty of Genos's draconic figure. It was striking, it was fine craftmanship, and it was...

More than those things. Genos was kind. He was studious and well spoken. His words were woven like the mellow notes of a song Saitama wanted to play on repeat even if they could be confusing. Genos held such great sorrow and it was this that made Saitama regret.

He may wake these people, but he himself would likely lose so much blood he would sleep and never wake again.

There were so many people here.

His body began to stumble and darkness hung at the edges of his vision, creeping in to the very center. Still, he spoke and walked and cut until one figure remained. He fell against the altar on which the clockwork figure lay and saw Death there to no surprise.

His axe was at the ready, the carmine of his eyes like stoked embers burning hot. His voice made the world colder and was tinged with triumph.

_Soon._

His voice made the black in his vision deeper. His head fogged and his head lolled to the side heavier with sleep, but he persevered and spoke still. He saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye and hoped Death had not seen.

He lowered his finger into the turning gears and fell the dull pain of it grating on bone. The horrible twang of agony through his very soul as he breathed what may be his last when he heard a familiar voice.

_Not yet. Saitama. Ask me._

Saitama jolts, suddenly his vision blacks out and he falls to the stones, rattling his jaw. Still he opens his mouth,” Demon's son, brother to Death, will you take me for a moment?”

He can almost see the flash of that sickle grin in the starless night of his faded vision.

_Yes._

_Sleep. Sleep and if you wake in the kingdom of the Hereafter and dine with Death, I shall ferry you._

Saitama sleeps.

He hears the roar of water before he feels it. He blinks awake and sees he's standing, one foot in warm water that tugs him downriver and the other solid on the shore.

There is nothing here.

It is pitch dark.

There are no stars.

Something watches him.

After a long moment, he is sure someone is calling him downriver. 

He doesn't know how long he has been here, but that voice sounds still more imploring. He begins to call out, but he can't hear himself over the roar of water and figures he should get a move on.

_Be still._

He trusts that voice and pulls out the gold pocket watch to count.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days, months.

Saitama has lost track every time he tries to count and is left with an overwhelming amount of each. He calls out, but no one speaks. He avoids saying names here.

You do not wake the dead.

At that thought, the voice calls louder and even when he brings his hands over his ears, he realizes that the voice is within his own skull and he focuses on the words.

They sound miles away, desperate and muffled. He tries to tune out the roar of the river and he knows he needs to get out of it. Away from it.

He braces his foot upon the shore and tries to lift his other leg, but it sinks in the soft silt and mud slurry of the riverbed.

His mind thinks back to days when he wishes he wouldn't wake at all and he loses that voice in his head to his own thoughts heavy enough to drown him.

No one needs him.

He always strives to be self sufficient, but likes the company of others. He needs other people.

How many times has he tried to live a hermit just to end up helping anyone who asks?

How many people even knew him enough to care?

How may times will it happen again if he goes back?

There's no point.

Nothing matters.

He doesn't know when his hands left his ears, or when he began to wade the river, but panic grips him. The voice is louder still and he stumbles back to the shore. With all his strength he falls across the dry riverbank and claws his way up and out of the inviting water until he's completely out.

His breath comes quick and clipped.

Relief washes through him and his laugh breaks into a sob.

He lays upon the shore a long while and thinks of how impossible this all is. Like a man possessed, he had nearly killed himself, but he didn't know what to do now. Where did you go when there was nothing to go to?

Despite this thought, Saitama rose from the ground and began to wander. He heard another voice join the one in his head and he stopped to close his eyes, to focus on the words and they were only a bit clearer.

_What if he never wakes?_

_I should have stopped him._

_We couldn't! No one could!_

He shuts his eyes tightly, and the words fade and come back. He shuts his eyes tighter, he tries to focus, but he just hears the soft murmurings of restorative spells, and then nothing.

Nothing at all.


	12. Home

Saitama doesn’t know if he’s awake or dreaming, he just knows that he’s being watched. He’s traveling east, back the way he came, unsure of what he’s leaving behind, but like most things he does, it fades to the back of his mind, an untouched memory.

After a long time, he heads home. The journey is unremarkable, and as he closes in on his destination, he can’t recall having looked at the sky and does so. Not because he needs to find his way, but because he wants to. He simply wants and so he turns his head skyward and sees a maelstrom of white-gray clouds over head.

No stars.

The shadows of the hills deepen as the path cuts a valley into them. He has met neither person nor animal on this long trek and suddenly, he finds it rather odd, but let’s it go.

The wind picks up, billowing his cape behind him and he turns against it. He looks back on the path and sees a white stone.

The sight seems odd somehow. The stone is almost square, resting beneath a gnarled tree. It’s oddly shaped, shadows hitting it in ways that mark out humanish shapes.

Curious.

Before he knows it, he’s walking towards it, the air pushing him forward and he sees something carved there in the stone. The light is hitting it so that it is obscured, so he turns his head.

_Things just end up here ___

__He drops the mallet and pick in his hands and there’s something hanging in the tree watching him with a single red eye._ _

__He looks up and sees the crow fall._ _

__Talons curled stiffly and eye clouded over in Death, it lays there a dark shape on dead grass._ _

__“Hello Saitama!”_ _

__It’s pitch dark out and he can see its shape among the trees. The face is no more than an impression of a face that changes as Saitama draws closer. He doesn’t want to._ _

__But he can’t remember what he was doing._ _

__“Follow.”_ _

__Saitama stumbles into the woods and follows it. He stumbles through the dark, blindly making a path through underbrush and stumbling around the trees. These are unlike any trees he has ever seen in the way that the wind doesn’t rattle their branches and the way their roots try and pull him back and curl around his boots._ _

__When he gets dragged down to the dirt, the thing waits for him without speaking. He attempts to kick free, but he feels like he’s drowning, every gasp for air burning his lungs._ _

__“I’ll be here.” It says._ _

__He’s drowning and no matter how he scrabbles for the surface, there isn’t one. Water pours in around him, but it doesn’t matter._ _

__He can’t breathe anyway._ _

__He lays at the bottom of the river bed, only held in place by_ _

__how heavy he is. He can’t get up, can’t even imagine it. He closes his eyes, hoping that time will just pass, no._ _

__That the world will just move on without him._ _

__He stands and starts home. He doesn’t remember cleaning up his campsite,  but these things have become so routine, his days bleed into his nights._ _

__A world without stars to guide him._ _

__It has been overcast for a long time._ _

__He wishes he could walk against the wind instead of into it._ _

__He can’t pull up his hood and his cape keeps getting tugged back. Just like his thoughts keep snagging at the fact he isn’t carrying anything._ _

__How would he have cleaned up camp if_ _

__He is wandering after it, wind at his back._ _

__“I warned you.” It says._ _

__“ You did.” Saitama says back._ _

__“Tell me about the stars.” It says._ _

__But Saitama can’t remember._ _

__It stops._ _

__“I’ll be waiting.”_ _

__“Wait-“_ _

__His father looks up from his plate, “Excuse me?”_ _

__Saitama shakes his head, and his father stands from the table, “No. Go on.”_ _

__Saitama can’t speak. He won’t. His father gestures out and Saitama knows what he means._ _

__The quarry. His stomach sinks and he makes sure his gloves are on, but_ _

__He didn’t have them yet._ _

__It watches as he struggles to tread water._ _

__“Tell me about the stars.”_ _

__He doesn’t know and that thought sinks him like his bones have turned to lead. He lays at the bottom_ _

__of the quarry._ _

__He’s home._ _

__He gets up and the sun hits the quartz like frosted glass and he sees it. Them._ _

__The places the light won’t catch, dull and lusterless. Full of cleavages and fractures._ _

__Round, imperfect spots on the mineral. Saitama pulls on his gloves, grabs the pick and mallet and begins again._ _

__He manages to break loose a piece, and this time it breaks off completely into his palm. This is the only way he figures he can undo what’s been done. A way to restore what he’s ruined. When he turns his head, he sees a complete handprint that he missed. It’s small. One of the ones he made when he was first using this particular quarry. He had always wanted to be one of the quarrymen. Hauling the stones and minerals that kept their kingdom afloat._ _

__Feldspar, Mica, and Quartz were the cornerstones of his life._ _

__Because the crown wasn’t his. He was expected to waste away and refused. With no magic, and a memory bank more like to a sieve than a steel trap, Saitama felt comfortable leaving the kingdom in his brother’s hands. Now, he accepted it, but there had been a time when he had wanted._ _

__When he had wanted-_ _

__“The sides of the quarry blocks out the trees when you lay at the bottom of it.”_ _

__From there you see nothing but stars._ _

__“Tell me about them.”_ _

__It hangs over the water, legs swaying in the strong wind but not touching._ _

__Saitama’s mouth is dry, though it’s full of river water. It sinks into it, face melting like a lump of sugar and its body loses its shape to become shadows on the water._ _

__Saitama speaks and keeps talking._ _

__It’s a story he has told his brother._ _

__It’s a story he has told Genos._ _

__Genos!_ _

__Saitama breaks the surface of the water in a panic,” GENOS!”_ _

__He sees that guiding star, that single light and stumbles from the depths, his armor laden with water and eyes blinded with it.  
The sun rises in the sky and that star fades, but the name does not._ _

__There are people he loves, things he must do, and he doesn’t know how to get back, but he’s going to. He is going to-_ _

___You are in the Hereafter, Saitama._ _ _

__He sees Death’s visage in every shadow and shakes his head, not in a show of defiance, but of  certainty,” No, I am not.”_ _

__He has not dined with Death. He has eaten nothing and there is no sign of Sonic anywhere._ _

__Instead, he has walked alone._ _

__Except that isn’t true._ _

__“You’re the revenant...Aren’t you?”_ _

__It’s just a hunch, just a feeling and yet he’s certain. Saitama has always been good at guessing._ _

__It stands there in the gloom just beyond the line of trees and stares at him._ _

__“I’m not dead. I still...I need to go back! Please!”_ _

__It simply looks at him, before Saitama feels its gaze slide off._ _

__He follows, this time, sure he’s walking in tandem with it._ _

__They walk across the crow littered grass and Saitama is sure to step around them. Nothing watches as they walk with the wind._ _

__“Tell me about the stars.”_ _

__Frustrated, Saitama shakes his head,” I already-“_ _

__“Tell me.”_ _

__Fuming, Saitama speaks quickly. The story is succinct and short, glossing over the minute details because he has told it the story already._ _

__It stops and Saitama’s heart skips a beat,” Wait!”_ _

__“What are the stars?”_ _

__“Heroes. Wizards.” Saitama says._ _

__It sways with the wind, voice soft,” What is a wizard?”_ _

__Irritated, Saitama snaps,” Someone who can call things to them even if they have no ears, a wizard can call them.”_ _

__“You called light.”_ _

__“I’m no wizard!” Saitama spat and it looked at him.  
“You destroy things, Saitama. You cannot call something unless you are destroying something else.”_ _

__Saitama goes cold and quiet._ _

__“No.”_ _

__It won’t speak and he feels Garou’s frustration._ _

__Garou...he hadn’t thought of him either and suddenly he thinks of young Zenko and her strength of character, of her brother Badd and his good intentions._ _

__He thinks of Mumen and the way he tries to help. He remembers them all and looks about. The revenant or whoever it was is gone._ _

__He needs to get back but does not know how, desperation seeding deep in his chest to germinate. He keeps walking. It is a dark woods, and nothing can be heard over the roar of the wind in the trees and his own increasing heart rate. Saitama walks alone here and there are no watchers either._ _

__You called light, it said._ _

__You destroy, it said._ _

__So he brings back his hand and punches. In a long line the trees bow only to break with a cacophony of horrible cracking. He sees the end. A dark patch of sky at the end of a long line of destruction and walks. The wind blows at his back and he feels different._ _

__He remembers who he needs to go back to and he remembers the discolored handprints left on white quartz that he had tried to chip away and hide._ _

__But the damage had already been done. When they had tried to export it, it didn’t pass the court mage’s tests. It was all useless rock that couldn’t hold any magic._ _

__The structure of the stone had changed._ _

__Only Saitama had known, and with this secret he refused to acknowledge, he watched Zedread devolve into chaos. They had no other exports. The surrounding valleys had been scoured and dug up over and over for quartz. They had no choice but to uproot their lives and leave._ _

__So Saitama thought and as he and King decided to leave before things got violent, their father would not._ _

__“First her, and now everything else...Leave me.”_ _

__King and Saitama knew what would happen if they left._ _

__They knew what would happen if they stayed, and ultimately, that was what made them choose._ _

__A crow hops into his path and he pauses. It turns its head, eyes like drops of wet ink as its curved beak parts on a laugh._ _

__“Murderer!”_ _

__They all croak from the trees with a horrible “ Haw, haw, haw!” of agreeing laughter and Saitama tries to walk around it. The crow gives a bounding hop,” Choices make the man! Coward!”_ _

__“Coward!” The crows agree amongst themselves, and Saitama makes his way past them, trying to ignore them as they jeer at him,” A hero who cannot wield a sword?!”_ _

__“Never heard of one.”_ _

__Saitama’s head whips to the side at its voice and he sees the revenant hanging there, swaying in the wind._ _

__He crosses over to it, but it brings him further from the path he’s cut into the trees and the crows swarm him,” Nobody! A nobody!”_ _

__He grits his teeth and pushes forward,” Who are you!?”_ _

__“You killed me.” the revenant says with a sigh,” But you have followed me here. Unprecedented. And here we are at a crossroads.”_ _

__Saitama freezes in his tracks,” You’re haunting me.”_ _

__“You won’t let me rest. You’ve left me with unfinished business. It is most inconvenient.”_ _

__Saitama laughs and it sounds too loud in the sudden quiet._ _

__“You’re telling me, dude. Do you...know how to get back?”_ _

__The dark figure sways in the wind, voice almost a sigh,” I repeat myself again and again to no avail. I will show you. Come forward and think about something to keep you here. If you do not, your soul shall be lost in the dark depths of the river.”_ _

__Saitama almost grabs its outstretched claw before it recoils,” So long as you are dishonest, I cannot show you truth. Omission of truth is also a shade of dishonesty, young Saitama. Thine self art thou enemy just as mine creator is young Genos’s.”_ _

__Saitama scowls, he’s impatient and at his wit’s end,” Then we’re at an impassè!”_ _

__“Mahap you should rethink your idea of yourself...it is a distorted and ugly imagining. If you have not sight for who you are, then you see the world through a muddied lens.”_ _

__Saitama paces before the dark figure in frustration,” You say I’m a liar. The crows call me a coward. Is that wrong? I think not.”_ _

__It won’t talk and Saitama goes on, panic mounting,” I’m just a man. They’re right. I’m no hero and I shouldn’t stick my nose in others business like I know what I’m doing but it doesn’t take someone special to know right and wrong. You just know it!”_ _

__“ When people need help, most don’t ask for it anyway!”_ _

__There’s only silence, and he goes on, unsure why he feels the need to explain himself to this thing who isn’t even human anymore,” What am I supposed to do? Walk away!?”_ _

__He runs a shaking hand over his scalp,” You say I don’t know who I am, but maybe you just don’t know me for me. I’m just a guy who’s a monster hunter for fun. I think being a hero would be fun and so...It’s a hobby.”_ _

__The shadows grow darker,” I’m a nobody. I used to be a prince, but I was a disgraced one. It was me that ruined all of the quartz. I just touched it and it...changed. It didn’t hold magic anymore it just...took and took until the person’s magic reserves were gone! Fitting huh? The one guy without magic ruins it for everyone.”_ _

__“ It was my fault that Zedread fell because...I took the magic away. It doesn’t work on me it just...warms me up. No matter how much magic you throw at me I can take it. Animals avoid me. Natural magic like glamours and disguises and transformative magics don’t work.”_ _

__The figure dangles there and Saitama wonders if it’s even listening._ _

__“That’s why Genos is special. He’s enchanted me somehow, has some sort of glamour, some sort of hold over me and I don’t mind it. I’m relieved. Magic works on me, finally! It just took the power of a wizard’s apprentice! Genos...he’s so smart, so good, even...”_ _

__Pretty._ _

__“I want to help him, so I have to go back! I want to break his curse just like he broke mine! I thought...” his throat closes painfully around the confession, making it a strained whisper,” I thought I wasn’t human anymore. I trained every single day until I became this. But now, magic works on me! Why else would I do so much for him? I hardly know him. It must be...strong magic.”_ _

__“Oh.” the revenant says._ _

__The crows bat their wings in a sussurous clamor,” FOOL! FOOL! Haw haw haw!”_ _

__Red faced, Saitama tries to keep a straight face,” I’m...telling the truth.”_ _

__“Give me your hand now, Saitama. I was wrong. You are not dishonest, just foolish. You will be fine. Your blind conviction will save you and your love will guard your heart.”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__The revenant’s hand dissipates,” What?”_ _

__“I said ‘No’! You guys are jerks! I’ll figure it out myself! Have a nice life, baldies!”_ _

__Saitama punches his way through the forest, not caring about how far and wide the destruction goes. It isn’t even real woodlands anyway._ _

__The wind blows every which way in the direction of his fists. The clouds part, the earth shatters and he leaps over great fissures and destruction to find a way out. He doesn’t know where he should be going, but he’s going to tear the whole dreamscape apart if he has to._ _

__Saitama has not been to the river in a long time, but he’s searching high and low for an escape, or something like a portal when he sees Him and grins,” Yo!”_ _

__Death stands there, and as soon as his eyes set on Saitama’s, the hunter freezes in his tracks._ _

__“You mock me at every turn Saitama. What is this?”_ _

__Saitama shrugs,” I need to go back.”_ _

__Death scowls at him, red eyes squinting as he heft’s his ax into one hand,” You’ll die here, Saitama. You refused Drive Knight’s help and now look at you. You’ve fallen to a curse.”_ _

__“A curse huh?”_ _

__“You were at my fingertips and suddenly, you’re not. Why.”_ _

__“I don’t know. You had your watchers there. You tell me.”_ _

__Death strides forward, teeth bared, “FOOL! If you were an ordinary creature-”_ _

__He pulls his pale cloak over himself, and simmers, eyes glowing like coals in his face, “I am not a mind reader.”_ _

__Saitama frowns, “But you are the secret keeper.”_ _

__“You are not keeping it secret. I just don’t understand.” Death, suddenly sighs, a large plume of dark smoke spilling into the air and choking Saitama until he’s coughing. Death grins at him, and Saitama’s skin prickles uncomfortably in goose flesh._ _

__“Saitama. What drives you? For the man who has been denied everything: his crown, his kingdom, his magic, and his honor, what drives you? You say you want to be a hero. Why? So you can get stuck up there in my brother’s collection? So you can guide other heroes? Why?”_ _

__Saitama can’t help the excitement he feels, his palms itch and he’s speaking before he’s thought better of it,” You’re saying heroes become stars! They really do?”_ _

__Death swings his ax, and the very sky splits, that endless blue torn in twain. An black pit stares at them and Death points to it, “ I’m a collector, Saitama. I collect souls indiscriminately, where my brother only takes those that he deems worthy. All of those people you’re trying to save? They were saved before. I was cheated, and they were promised to me, do you understand? They’re as good as mine.”_ _

__Saitama shakes his head,” As good as isn’t as good as got, dude-uh-sir.I just don’t get why it bothers you that they get to live a little longer. You’ll get them anyway?”_ _

__“ I might not.” Death says lowly, red eyes turned skyward,” They might end up out of my reach.”_ _

__Saitama stares up into the sky with Death and doesn’t know how long they have been there until He speaks,” You want to die. Why not here?”_ _

__Saitama’s mouth twists at that. He can’t deny that. Not to the secret keeper. He has Death’s Gift, the Deathwish. He always has had this soul sickness since his youth and he looks to the Pale figure at his side and replies easily,” I still have things to do.”_ _

__Death turns to him, blooded eyes sharp and angry, “Let us make a deal then. You get one chance. If they die, so do you. Would you really gamble your life away?”_ _

__He thinks of Genos. The way he gleams in the moonlight and the way he shines in the sun._ _

__“Yes.”  
Death grins wide, “Fool. You might not ever leave here. But here. Let’s see.”_ _

__Death holds out his hand, pale and scarred and ancient._ _

__Saitama takes it._ _

__His skin is the unnatural texture of dead leaves but his hands burn Saitama right down to the bone and he bites back a scream, and eyes watering because he’s sure his hand has been charred right down into the deep muscle tissue._ _

__Death is the greatest hunter of them all and Saitama can only be in awe that he is in His grasp, yet will know this small mercy._ _

__“Tell Me about the stars, Wizard.”_ _

__Saitama’s mouth falls open like it’s a command._ _

__“When the world was still new, there was a maiden unlike any other. She could call the tide, she could set the moon and sun each, could call any animal or person to her and she was coveted by two brothers who each wanted her for their own. One was the North Star and the other was Sleep. Sleep tried to claim her to no avail for she was impervious to all Magics so to make sure his brother never won, he secreted her away deep in the earth where no one else could look upon her. He sang her praises and gifted her the thing he had been working on since he laid eyes on her. ‘You have only to fall into sleep and I shall gift it to you!’  Wary at first, she denied Him for three days until finally, she acquiesced finally able to tire when faced with a man’s indignation. This gift was the first dream.”_ _

__Saitama sighed, he had never much liked this story,” He took her a great many places known and unknown to her. Together they traveled through amalgamated memories and fantasies and finally after a great many years she turned to him, ‘This is fantastic, but it is not real. I miss my friends, I miss coherency and my magic. Wake me.’ Sleep denied her and unable to bear it, such was her heartache that she fell down dead. This was the first Death and so Death rose from her body and greeted his brother in anger, ‘You have brought me into this world with great cruelty and dye me in your colors! You will know no permanence in this world or the next!’ And so Death climbed to the surface of the world and began to number all creatures’ days. He bred disease and brought famine, he felled both animate and inanimate things. In a panic, Sleep threw his cape across the night sky and dotted it with the lives of those he saves. So it’s been and it will always be that these chosen few that they fight for are born under the sign of the Hook.”_ _

__Death looks him over,” So what does that say to you?”_ _

__Saitama shrugs, “Star making sounds complicated.”_ _

__“For one born under the sign of the Hook and branded by it...that’s what you walk away with.”_ _

__Saitama feels as he does when he’s missed a step, stomach swooping uncomfortably. He shakes off Death’s grip and crosses his arms. He thinks about it a bit more carefully._ _

__The stories about Death always involve a gamble between Death and Sleep, both entities always playing for keeps to determine whether a person lives or dies. He thinks of Genos’s curse. The way that he kills the plants he walks across like in the story of Winter. Saitama has never liked that story either. The wizard had fallen into an ice floe and was crushed to death. He rose up and hated those who were warm and happy._ _

__Something like that. His heart had turned to ice and he leeched heat from the air, and would freeze an entire part of the world. Genos’s case wasn’t as severe, but he had killed roses just by touching them._ _

__A winter mark foretold by an old story._ _

__What else?_ _

__Saitama was thinking more about the tales in general than the one he had just told and that wasn’t good. His mind was wandering, but having told the story over and over he was eager to do something else with his time._ _

__Even so, Saitama tries to focus on the task at hand. What did the stars have to do with him?_ _

___The cheat. The star._ _ _

__That’s what Psykos had said._ _

__Death thought he cheated him and-_ _

__“I’M?”_ _

__He turns to Death, but turning makes him lightheaded and he isn’t sure if it’s the realization or Death’s effect on him but he staggers, black spots overtaking his vision._ _

___I have a story for you, Saitama._

He falls asleep, terrified and wakes drenched in sweat, gasping for breath and clawing at his collar, sure that tree roots have climbed their way over him again. Sure that the revenant is going to be there waiting.

And now he knows the revenant for what he is.

“Saitama?!”

He pants raggedly, hands over his face. Unsure if his mind is playing him the fool or if he’s truly awake and laying in a glass coffin lined with the softest fabric he’s ever laid on against a bed of white roses in full bloom. His breath clouds on the air and his sweat cools like ice on his skin before it slides into his collar.

“Genos?”

He drags his gloved hands from his face to look at the king and recoils.

Gone is Genos’s gold. His metal is black and coiling into such unnatural, jagged shapes he looks like more a demon in charred brambles than a man. If not for his eyes, that bright, familiar amber, Saitama would not know him. He reaches out for the barbed line of his jaw and the king draws back in wide-eyed terror.

“Saitama...”

Before Genos can say anything else, Saitama speaks over him in mortification. Enchanted he may be, but he mustn’t be so easily swayed. It’s difficult to tear his eyes from the barbs and serrated textures of Genos’s metal skin to the wide windows of the library and yes, Saitama is laying in a glass coffin aside piles of books on a table.

Through the window he sees it and speaks,” Is that frost!?”

No.

No, no, no!

He stands and easily leaps down from the coffin to press his nose to the wide windows and he sees it. He feels the ice cold glass against his face, his nose burns and already he’s sniffling. His breath clouds over the glass and the pale gray of the sky is almost indistinguishable from the piled snow on the castle grounds.

Winter has come.

And how!? How has the summer and autumn passed so quickly!? How long has he been here, dreaming his days away !?

He looks back to the glass coffin and notes that Genos’s eyes are still wide and he stands still as a statue.

Saitama can hear the squeak and wrench of gears echoing within the confines of Genos’s cursed body and if not for that he would think him inanimate.

Except before, Genos’s gears were an inaudible whir and now, they are loud.

His body’s condition has deteriorated as well as changed appearances and Saitama’s temperature seems to drop to that of the frigid room.

“You’ve changed and...Did you think me dead?”

Genos finally moves, ducking his head as misshapen hands tug his cloak over his face, except his horns have grown out so that the hood conceals nothing, “ I-no you breathed and moved but would not wake and we thought you might be cursed when I realized this was some form of stasis and it was an insult to leave your body outside unguarded when you had to be left there to prevent the clockwork curse from taking hold and-”

Saitama holds up his hands, “ Whoa, easy! I-can you-uh, make that shorter?”

Genos crumples, hands barely catching the back of a chair to hold him up as he lets out a horrendous wrenching sound of metal on metal before he lets loose a weak, soft laugh, “You’re really...Oh Saitama...”

The king falls to his knees, metal hands scraping over his inhuman face as he weeps.

“No! Don’t!? I’m, yeah I’m fine, don’t-Genos, c’mon man!”

Genos hiccups into his palms,” Sorry I’m so sorry.”

Saitama edges near Genos, hands hovering and he’s unsure what to do but the king hooks his claws into the front of his armor and drags him down. Genos buries his pointed face into Saitama’s armored shoulder and the side of his neck. The points drag across his skin and make him squirm with an involuntary giggle before he shoves the king fully onto his shoulder and ends up drenched in black tears as he awkwardly holds his hands out to his sides.

His skin is crawling like Genos has set fire to it. His face feels too hot as if to spite the winter air and his hands ache. He wants to slide the pads of his fingers over the tangle of Genos’s metal hair. He wants to feel the edges of his horns and brush along the serrated lines of his jaw. He wants to brave the spikes and thorns of Genos’s figure and instead feels ashamed of himself.

Genos was worried about him. Genos was waiting for him.

He is young and passionate. He is beautiful and kind.

Saitama lifts Genos’s hands from his breast and sits back on his heels, “Tell me what happened while I was sleeping. We’re running out of time Genos.”

Genos sniffles, gripping Saitama’s gloved hands tightly before bringing them up to rest his face into the backs of them, “Please allow me this for but a moment. I’ll ask nothing else of you, I swear it.”

Saitama’s heart flutters in apprehension and fear. He’ll ask nothing else of him?

“No! Genos, I swear I will break this curse! I-”

Genos smiles, a twist of spires and whorls into an ugly baring of teeth, “ It is of no matter. I should be content just to know that you are well for now. I may trouble you with the rest of it later. For now, let me hold you.”

Saitama feels weak, and he trembles before this beast as if he’s scared.

Except he isn’t frightened at all. He feels dizzy and lightheaded, in a way unlike the effect of Death. He finds himself tensing as Genos resumes laying his face against his hands. The king’s eyes slide shut and even without being looked at, Saitama is warm and his heart twitters excitedly.

If he is a hero or wizard or star what-have-you, why can’t he over power this weakened state. Instead he succumbs, he capitulates, he loses all too willingly.

What will happen when he breaks Genos’s curse and he’s not needed anymore?

It scares him to think Genos won’t favor him anymore.

He wants.

For the first time, Saitama is selfish and allows himself to take.

He takes a sharp breath, and curls his loose fingers over Genos’s slowly and gradually until he’s holding them back. He wishes he hadn’t any gloves at all, but as they sit there in the silence he’s also glad to have this moment.

He’s happy for anything at all.

Finally, Genos tells Saitama of all the things that have transpired during his sleep.

With the citizens awake and panicked, Mumen, Fubuki and Genos has formed a unified front. They delegated jobs for those that did not normally work in the castle and began several projects to keep people busy.

Genos and Mumen had taken Saitama’s advice to heart and began growing several crops, as well as smoking and brining meat to prepare for winter. Fubuki’s group had raised no trouble and were the most organized, rebuilding the warehouse and silos. Mumen’s group had cut wood and harvested grains and fruit. Garou and Badd had taught anyone who wanted to learn how to hunt. Even though they could not eat, they did this in preparation for when they could and it gave Saitama hope to know that the people had it.

Genos had worked on both unraveling Saitama’s curse and his own, becoming more and more a beast as time passed.

The King was suddenly somber, “Saitama...there is a place in the West Wing...”

Saitama’s heart stutters in his chest and he watches Genos carefully. It’s difficult to read Genos’s expression in the gloom. His inhuman, mechanical face betraying nothing of what he may be feeling.

Saitama thinks of himself and Garou and the revenant.

Knowing what he knows, he would have rather ripped the revenant to pieces rather than let it fall, so he listens.

They shouldn’t have been there and he wonders if Genos could possibly tell.

Genos goes on, “There is a tower there, rice with dark magic. It leaves a soot-like substance that accumulates from spells-ah forgive me I didn’t mean to ramble but-“

“What is that stuff anyway?”

Genos looks surprised before he smiles, soft and toothy, “Its decayed magic.”

“Decayed.”

Genos nods, “ When you cast a spell in a cursed area, your power can be absorbed and that’s what is left.”

Saitama thinks of the half covered bridge at the edge of the woods and hums, “Why?”

“I’ll give you the short version.” Saitama can hear the smile in his voice and he wonders when Genos has gotten so close or if he’s stupidly imagining it.

He can’t keep looking at him and Genos goes on, “There is a great pit in the West Tower. It is covered in this substrate of magic. It makes it difficult to cast. It chokes the life out of things, Saitama. Kills them.”

Saitama looks back to him to see the King’s jaw is clenched and his claws close tightly round Saitama’s hands, the leather of his gloves creaking, “ There is an undead creature on the rafters of that place. It thrives despite the conditions of that tower, immune to the dark magic and the substrate and so I was studying it.”

Saitama swallows hard, but his mouth is still dry.

He considers coming clean. Considers telling the truth.

Genos goes on, “It disappeared and so, I realized, feeling that there were no intruders and asking Geryuganshoop about the rest of the castle, knew that it had fallen.”

Saitama knows what happened next. He knows but he still listen to Genos.

“I climbed down there and found it, but the quartz keeping whatever occupied it’s chassis, was broken and...the quartz was changed.

Saitama pulls away as Genos digs into his cloak, and he sees more of the black metal.

It was his fault that Genos had changed even further and now he knows why his parts had seemed changed at times.

It was from spending his time near that pit.

Genos pulls something delicately from the inner pocket of his coat and Saitama blanches.

The once pink quartz has gone a milky white. And on it is a black mark. A smudge that is lined with fractures.

“I did that.” Saitama says. He pulls away from Genos and Genos holds him fast with one arm, “You?”

“I went to the West Wing and-“

Genos took hold of his hands again,”You went there? And you’re all right?”

“Yes?” his voice is quiet. And Genos looks at him, gold eyes narrowed.

“You...do you know the fundamentals of magic?”

He thinks of days spent visualizing things like candles and the sun trying to conjure light, “Yes?”

“I don’t think so.” Genos says matter of fact, “ This wouldn’t happen if you knew how to control your magic.”

He hold up the ruined quartz thoughtfully, “Saitama...you are immune to magical attacks, you have survived wounds dealt by dragons, you have survived a Gorgon’s gaze. You are singular in this and I believe it is because you know not the fundamentals.”

Saitama scowls, “Hey, just cause you’re some hotshot wizard’s apprentice doesn’t mean-“

“Sorry, That isn’t what I meant at all... I think I’ve figured out your magic. It’s the reason you were able to fend off the curse of eternal sleep, the reason you’re able to open the door. I was right. You have your own magic.”

Saitama doesn’t want to hang onto the king’s every word,  it he feels as though he is hardly breathing. He stares intently at Genos’s face, looking for any signs of deceit. For a smile. For the parting of pretty lips over a mocking laugh and he suddenly feels terrible for expecting it when Genos smiles kindly at him.

“Saitama...The outcome of your curse was up to you. If you realized you had the power to wake, you would.”

“That. I don’t even get it.”

Genos blinks at him before frowning, “It was trial of the self. It’s a well known wizard trial, Master Saitama. Amazing that you have come so far despite having never-!”

“Wait! Hold on, are you really saying this again? I might not even be a wizard!”

The king shakes his head eyes wide and voice hushed, “ But you are. It not up to you whether you are born one way or another. You simply are.”

“If I didn’t believe you were a wizard’s apprentice before I do now! Stop speaking in riddles!”

Genos just sighs at him, “ How I missed you.”

Embarrassed at the resounding punch of his heart, Saitama stands and sighs at the mess of black tears dripping down his armor from earlier, “ Well, uh. I’ll get going then!”

Genos stands suddenly, “ Wait! I must introduce you to my subjects! And we must celebrate your return at the very least! Are you not hungry, having slept for so long?”

“Bah!” Saitama grouses, “ Forget formalities, Genos! I’ve missed months! Winter is here already!”

Genos fidgets uncertainly, before replying sternly, “I want to make the most of the time I have left.”

“Then hit the books!” Saitama says over his shoulder. He stomps down the staircase and tosses a wave at Genos before escaping the library.

Genos is too kind and too familiar with him which is strangely its own kind of torture.

He trudges forward, through the doors and freezes at the sight of people looking up at him from their conversation.

They’re also metal people who drop into fervent bows, “Magus Saitama!”

One woman draws forward, “ Allow me to tell King Genos of your return!”

Saitama waves her off stiltedly, “He knows.”

A steel-made man nods, “Of course! Wizards work in mysterious ways!”

“Um. Yeah.” Saitama says and he was unsure where he was going until now. He needs some air and open sky to put him at ease and nods, “Farewell!”

He’s almost running out the stained glass door and sighs in relief once he’s outside. It’s been sometime since he’s seen snowfall and he trudges around, kicking the snow this way and that and crunching it under his boots. The hunter finds himself in front of a familiar tree and drops down to wipe freshly fallen snow off of the headstone.

He breaks off pieces of snow, only to feel grooves in the stone.

Curious, he wonders if someone finally carved an epitaph when he sees familiar writing:

_Things just end up here_

His stomach sinks.

That’s _his_ handwriting. His stonework.

He stands, turning and looking to the trees.

Everything is too still, too quiet when he expects the chatter of crows.

He jumps at the sound of wood cracking and turns.

Its fur is white now, and its pronged maw splits in a soft yawn, tongue tasting the air. A King’s deer. Saitama knows what to do.

He holds out his palm, “Come here.”

The beast stills, hay colored lashes batting before it’s amber eyes look to him. The creature tosses its head with a snort and Saitama demands, “Over here.”

With its tail between its trembling legs and feet struggling to resist Saitama’s call, the creature makes huge, ambling tracks through the snow and finally, dips its head down. It lays its muzzle into Saitama’s hand and he laughs, incredulous.

The beast’s pupils contract to pinpricks and it makes an odd keening bellow, before Saitama takes his hand back, “Sorry. You can go now.”

With a terrified whinny, the creature darts back into the woods.

Briefly, Saitama thought of how easy it would be to follow it. To keep his steps light, and watch for signs of life. To trace its tracks and hunt.

Except he doesn’t need to do that anymore.

The animals will come when he calls and he runs a hand over his face in disbelief.

The writing on the stone. He did that. Even if it was a dream, somehow it had become reality. Somehow, he had carved it. The lines between the dreamt place and waking were now blurred. Smudged over like a painting and Saitama wondered if it wasn’t too big a leap in judgement to think he could look at the curse from a magic perspective.

Except he had no training, and no frame of reference to understand it anyway. He didn’t even understand his own magic or how it worked. For others, it seemed as simple as keeping an image in mind. For Saitama, his casting was unpredictable. Sporadic.

But he was able to call the deer! It was start. Cursing, Saitama realized that Genos was the person to ask about these things, and he had just left.

Except, his feet were already taking him back to the castle and he stopped as soon as he was able.

Then there was this feeling. This draw to the king. Like a moth to the flame, he was more likely to be burned than warmed. He thought this, and yet his treasonous thoughts lingered in the feeling of Genos against the backs of his hands. Of cool metal against his jaw and tears shed for him.

Of Genos in the sun, the moonlight, lit by candles, shrouded in the confines of his cloak.

Scowling, Saitama stomped through the snow back to the castle.

He wanted to stay.

When Saitama opens the door, he startled at the welcoming party. Eight women in stiff collared dresses greet him with deep bows, “ Welcome back, High Wizard Saitama, Lord of Zedread!”

The stewardess, dressed in all black, took a single step forward, “At the behest of Lord Genos, we would like to extend a welcoming hand to you and would be honored if you allowed us to lead you to the dining hall. We have prepared for your return with eagerness and would very much-“

“Okay.” Saitama said bluntly, “Let’s go then.”

The stewardess nods politely, “As you wish. Please allow us to lead you, your lordship.”

Saitama hates formalities. They make his collar feel too tight.

“Uh. Sure? I already know the way though?”

The stewardess nods, “You are free to decline, we do not wish to displease you and dare not imply that our company is a requirement. It is Lord Genos’s desire that you may act as you please.”

“Does he want me there?” Saitama can’t help but ask and too late, he realizes he’s made her job that much harder.

She remains unperturbed, gears just as squeaky as before, “I dare not assume nor pretend that I know. I am but a humble servant, and can only say that Lord Genos has extended this invitation to you. Do you accept?”

Remembering his manners, Saitama replies almost mechanically, “Graciously, I do.”

The stewardess smiles, an odd spinning of gears and then, she turns, “ I graciously accept on my Lord’s behalf and extend thanks. Now let us go.”

She strides forward and when Saitama follows, his stomach lurches and suddenly they are striding into the dining hall. Automaton people stand from the benches and begin to clap and shout.

More magic?

He tries to smile, but he doesn’t like it.

Is he still dreaming?

He doesn’t know, but he smiles at the automatons cheering for him and notes the rust around their joints, the loud squeaking of hinges as they move and then that ever constant whirr of gears.

He notices a pair of dark wings opening and the people make room for Fubuki as she crosses the crowd to get to him, “Saitama!”

Her yellowed, porcelain face is still beautiful, but her porcelain is spiderwebbed through with cracks and her movements are jerky. He lifts a hand in greeting, “Yo. You’re out of the tower?”

“You broke the door down.” She says and Saitama nods, “Right. Of co-“

His eyes catch on the dark figure. It’s legs swaying in an unfelt wind. Except instead of the usual feeling of familiarity and hope that he can find his way back, his heart stutters in his chest and his skin seems to pull tight over his fame in terror.

“Saitama?”

“Sorry. What?”

“Are you all right?”

He laughs, swiping an arm over his forehead, “Honestly, I’m kind of tired.”

She stiffens at that and he realizes that that probably isn’t what she wants to hear. They’ve been waiting for him to wake for months. He needs to pull himself together and indulge them for a bit, regardless of how he feels, but his eyes keep catching on the figure beneath the cheerily lit chandelier and he stills as their eyes catch.

It says nothing.

He’s almost certain he’s awake, but he sees it looking there above all these smiling faces and feels sick.

He doesn’t know.

The room is quiet, “Saitama.”

“Sorry. I zoned out. Um.”

Fubuki is frowning at him, and so are the townsfolk, quickly catching on that something is wrong.

She turns her head, and his heart seizes in his chest as she follows his line of sight and he pulls her wing, gets her attention, “I guess the only reason I’m tired was because I was kind of awake the whole time? Like dreaming.”

She turns to him, “About what?”

“I was trying to go home, but this thing kept pulling me back. And I ended up here.”

The words don’t come easily, even when he’s being vague as possible. Fubuki looks at him strangely, “ Well in any case, I’d like to hear about it. Later maybe, for now, you must be starved!”

She claps her hands and there is a clamor as all metal people scurry about to sit or perch upon the benches. Fubuki wraps a wing loosely about his shoulders, and guides him to the seat right of the king. She pulls out his chair and he looks at her with great skepticism and speaks quietly, “The right hand side? In front of everyone?”

Even he knows the significance of that.

Fubuki just smiles primly, “Well. I was not the one whose sleeping visage Young Lord Genos was mooning over night and day.”

She says this quiet, and Saitama plunks down into the chair just to spite her. As soon as he sits, he’s bombarded with silver trays lined with all manner of dried meat, a fresh thrush, and lentil soup. He looks to his left, where Fubuki is still standing, “Now, if any have any questions to ask of Lord Saitama, “Please direct them to me so that they may be asked and told.”

She produces a sheaf or paper from her wing and plucks a metal feather from them. With a horrible, tinny scraping sound, she whittles down the hollow point of her quill and is provided a pot of ink by one of her lackeys.

“ Now be aware. These questions will be in audience of Lord Genos. Bring honor to his name.”

This is followed by a thunderous stamping of feet and an answering call of, “ So mirror thy Lord’s good will!”

Saitama thinks it’s a bit creepy, and reminds him of home. It’s not quite to the level of the dark figure hanging within his line of sight. It hangs there and watches him with a single red eye.

He manages to focus on eating as the clockwork people line up and ask Fubuki their questions, some she answers herself and others she turns away, but Saitama can’t be bothered to follow it.

His eyelids fall heavy over his eyes and he finds himself blinking away sleep before he yawns into the crook of his arm. His head feels like a great weight, but he manages to stave off drowsiness at the sight of the figure. He snaps upright, skin breaking out in goose flesh.

It lifts a spidery hand and points.

Saitama looks and the doors open, revealing a cloaked King Genos. He easily towers over them all even when they stand to greet him.

“HAIL LORD GENOS!”

Saitama rubs at his temples, stomach turning nervously. He hasn’t been round so many people in a long time, and he feels each gaze like a touch. Even though he’s recoiling, he stands with the rest of them and Lord Genos notices with a cry of, “MASTER SAITAMA! DO NOT TROUBLE  YOURSELF WITH THIS PLEASANTRY! YOU MUST BE STARVED AND WEARY!”

Saitama meets eyes with Genos and suddenly he feels a thrill go through him. Through Genos is cloaked, he can still clearly see his jagged face. He sees the light play across his serious expression, and finds his hands itching for something to do. Finally he sits, but then, he sees Genos look up.

He looks directly at the dark figure hanging from the chandelier, and then makes his way to the high table.

Saitama’s mind is racing. He wonders if he sees it, or if-

Genos settles next to him, and his frame is so big, their shoulders brush and Saitama focuses on the meal before him as Genos addresses the people curiously looking at them.

He knows that if Genos’s kingdom is anything like his own and the many others sprawled across the world, he has, by his actions shown deference to Saitama. He doesn’t know how to feels about that,  considering how young the King is, and his own status.

It brings to mind what Fubuki said about usurping.

It would almost be funny, if he didn’t see so many frowning faces in the crowd. He doesn’t miss that the questions come quieter now, and a hush falls over them.

Genos, still standing, addresses them all, “It has been some time since we were all gathered here. Even if we cannot use the hall for it’s intended purpose, I hope we can all greet Master Saitama with open arms! He tirelessly worked at waking each and every one of you who were bewitched by the death-sleep. He spilled blood for each of you and became cursed himself, but he has returned to us, whole and healthy and so, I would ask that you treat him kindly. He would ask nothing more of you, I’m sure. Humble as he is! Why, Lord Saitama is the one that-“

Saitama feels all those curious stares and the crowd looks more like a beast with a million eyes ready to devour him. He tugs at Genos’s cape, “Dude, aren’t you praising me too much?”

“Ah,” Genos says, “I think not, but we must move onto other things. Please. Fubuki.”

Fubuki stands and holds the sheaf of paper before her, “Lord Saitama. Who are you?”

His hands are clammy in their gloves and he catches a spot of red, that single eye.

“I am Saitama of Zedread. I was...second in line to the throne. I managed the accounts and books...”

There is a great murmur among them and Fubuki goes on, “What is your goal here?”

Saitama rubs at the back of his neck. He sees the figure drag a hand over its throat, “Uh, I want to break this curse. At first I came because I heard rumors of a beast, but now it’s a different problem...yeah.”

He realizes by the harsh scratch of a quill on paper that Genos is furiously writing on a large piece of parchment and stiffens as he reads a dictation of his own words on paper before he writes in large, neat letters:

“Why are you dreaming about this? Don’t you hate these things? Town hall meetings?”

Saitama looks up from the paper and sees the hall is dark. The chandelier is dark, but he can see that single red eye and he thinks he’s drowning. He scrambles backwards, tipping over the chair with a large clatter and-

He wakes outside drenched in sweat and lurches into a sitting position from his place in the snow-covered grass. It’s full dark and he almost cries out when he hears the cackle of a crow.

“No.”

He’s lost time again.

Saitama stands on shaky legs, and looks to the woods. They’re dark, and bare and he’s freezing from the snow, but he knows for a fact he could be naked and not suffer frostbite. Even so, he can hardly feel his extremities and the joints in his limbs are stiff as he bends in his armor. He brushes water from his face where the snow has melted and finds himself breathing hard into his hands, chest tight and constricting around his pounding heart.

He groans, trying to rumble his chest and alleviate the way it hurts. He tries to sort out his feelings, digs his heels into the snow as if it can ground him here in the waking world.

He still feels exhausted and wonders if he will ever know a peaceful night again.

He stands up from the snow,  brushing it off and shaking out his cape, when he sees a lit window in the West Wing of the castle.

His heart stutters at the dark figure looming within the frame before he sees the horns and sighs in relief.

“Genos?”

The king waves his arms and Saitama lifts a hand, feeling misplaced by the ridiculousness of the situation.

Did Genos see him asleep out here?

He starts walking toward the castle so he can see better, and he sees Genos make a beckoning gesture, before pointing to his right.

Saitama lifts his arms in a shrug and Genos points to his right more adamantly. Unsure what to do, Saitama starts walking to the Eastern entrance, but when he looks back at Genos for approval, the king is gone.

Saitama notes that he can see small beams of light from the windows and realizes that the castle must be full of people now. He thinks about his dream and his stomach turns. Did he really call the deer? Was that just another phantasm?

He reaches the stained glass door of the eastern entrance and takes a deep breath before wrenching the door open. There is no one waiting for him, and all he hears is the constant ticking of the castle.

Sighing in relief, Saitama shuts the door and very nearly shouts when he turns and sees Genos’s great, looming figure in his he doorway of the adjacent hallway.

“I did not mean to surprise you! But Saitama, are you all right?! I was just looking outside when I saw you in the snow!”

He tries to answer, but the words won’t come now that Genos has seized his forearms into large claws. He shakes his head, trying to dispel a need to be closer and speaks, finally, voice hoarse, “I just fell asleep...”

“You shouldn’t go out so late! You could have-Saitama please, please be more careful! If you had- It would be unwise to take naps in this temperature! And I’m sorry for not stopping you! You...you don’t quite have a handle on your magic...do you?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, Genos is bowing deep and backtracking, “Well I mean to say- it must be disorienting to-“

Saitama cuts him off, “You called me master from the start, didn’t you...Why?”

Genos blinks at him prettily and Saitama can’t stand being so close, and drops his gaze to watch the interesting way Genos’s claws take his wrists in hand, “ You opened the front door when it should have been impossible. I had studied that door for years. It was connected to the sleeping people and even the woken people and yet, I could not figure out how they all connected. You broke the mechanism just by pulling it.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty strong-“

“I am sure that is the case teacher, however...if an ordinary person were to do that, no matter how strong they were, that door would not open. Such is magic.”

“Okay?”

Genos hums, and Saitama realizes he is closer to him now, almost pressed into the folds of his cloak and he can smell the sharp tang of metal and oil. He can hear the lurching and squeaking of Genos’s gears.

Genos pulls him from his own thoughts with a soft, “Have you...seen things before Saitama? Things you can’t explain or things that watch you?”

He thinks of the red eyed figure and an involuntary shudder wracks his frame, “ Not until recently...”

“Are you sure?”

He wants to tell Genos about seeing Death at the edge of the woods, but his words are locked away. Genos hums again, a low rumbling sound punctuated with the sound of scraping metal, “ Death has never shown himself to me, but I know his Mark when I see it.”

Saitama is about to look up, but Genos deliberately runs a thumb over the back of Saitama’s hand and he freezes up.

“You’ve been dealt a terrible fate, haven’t you?”

They’re familiar words from a different mouth and he wrenches his hands away.

Genos startles, “I am so sorry-“

“Don’t apologize,” Saitama grouses. His heart is pounding hard and he finds anger to be easier than the fear.

Fear of rejection.

Instead, Genos draws close, “I did not mean to overstep.”

His eyes are so soft, his voice a quiet rumble and Saitama feels like a bow drawn too tight again. Like a beast of burden carrying beyond its weight limit. He feels so heavy, knowing what he knows about himself. Knowing what he knows about Genos.

“Lord Genos!”

Saitama and Genos both startle and he just realizes that they’ve drawn together again, Saitama’s hands on Genos’s forearms. At first there to keep Genos from grabbing him again, but now, there as if he can’t hold his own weight.

He rocks back onto his heels, off of his toes and lets go. The whole world feels off kilter.

Again, it’s just Saitama who is unbalanced. He focuses on that thought. It’s just him. He’s desperately hoping too hard and seeing things that simply aren’t there. Just like magic. Another phantasm fabricated out of this curse.

Genos turns his great head, and Saitama sees the way a forked, metal tongue darts out against a black bottom lip and shudders.  
   
He wants to spend more time with Genos. He needs to know him better. To know him more intimately. Surely, the more sides you come to know of someone, the less appealing they become.

Saitama feels much the same about himself.

Mumen walks towards them, brow furrowed, and Saitama’s mouth parts in surprise.

Mumen’s copper is lined and crusted with greens and blues. His joints crack horribly and his right arm is tied off into a sling.

“Saitama...” Mumen stops in his tracks, “It really is you!”

Saitama tries a smile, “Yeah, I’m back.”

“This is cause for celebration! Have you eaten? Oh dear-the time! I will gather the scullery maids to start dinner at once! And-“

Saitama is about to cut in, but there is the horrible scraping and clacking sound of nails on marble and Saitama dodges a large, black blur of a beast.

“Rover?”

The beast whines and whines, as it slides across marble and nearly tumbles into the wall. The  dog rights itself and barrels toward Saitama again, except Saitama lets him collide with his chest. He shoves Rover’s snout away from his face and it writhes and whines into his neck, tail thumping Saitama’s leg in both distress and glee.

He’s as big as a dire wolf, with teeth twice as long. His claws catch on Saitama’s shoulder and he removes him carefully, to sit down and pat his side, “Hey boy, were you good? Looks like someone’s been over feeding ya.”

He looks pointedly at Mumen who rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “I didn’t know he got bigger!”

Saitama sighed, noting that Rover’s fur had hardened into quills that lined his body. His six eyes had a luster like to pearls and he found himself sighing again. He shoves Rover’s head down and mutters, “ Be smaller!”

“Well, he’s a nether hound,” Genos says, crouching down. He reaches out to pat one of Rover’s haunches and immediately, Rover’s quills bristle out. He lunges at Genos’s hand with an ugly snarl. Saitama flicks his nose before his teeth can close around the metal claw and reprimands him sternly, “Bad dog!”

Rover whines, lowering his head, and covering his sore nose with his paws and Saitama feels bad.

Genos folds his arms, “He’s taken a liking to you despite...”

“So he’s a nether hound? What’s that?”

“Magic beast. They’re also called grims. Their appearance often foretells Death of any who see them supposedly.”

Mumen frowns, “He likes all of us, why not Lord Genos?”

Saitama hums, “It’s cause his touch kills.”

He scratches at Rover’s belly and laughs as the beast throws back his head and grins, tongue lolling stupidly from its mouth. 

Saitama realizes too late that no one else has spoken and lifts his head to see Genos and Mumen both staring at him.

Mumen looks offended and Genos is just quiet, face unreadable.

“Uh, I mean. You killed the roses,” Saitama winces, “ So...it’s a story, yanno? Sometimes they’re useful? I mean, Rover foretells Death right? That’s an autumnal mark. A death touch, is a mark of winter...I think.”

He adds ‘I think’ even though he knows with certainty. He’s hunted all manner of beasts, magic and not. Marks are just as important as tracks when deciding how to go about closing in on your prey. Saitama tweaks Rover’s ears, certain that the other men are done talking and is proven wrong when Genos says, aghast, “ We’re out of time.”

Saitama lifts his head, “ Not yet.”

Mumen steps forward, voice quiet and jaw set, “Are you sure? You said you didn’t know too much about magic.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s still true. I know the deadline is in winter but I fell asleep before I could figure out the exact date.” Saitama admits.

“So you know how to calculate it?! Can you show me- “

Saitama feels something cold trail his spine, and he jolts, “ Can’t.”

Genos drops to his knees, “Please, Master! I think I could- “

“It’s not that I doubt you, it’s that I really can’t- “

His mouth shuts, and he gestures vaguely and shrugs. Mumen huffs his indignation, “Saitama anything could help us. Anything.”

Those words hit him like lead, “I know, and I am helping. I’m trying.”

Saitama’s stands and Rover leaps up to standing, yipping happily. His head comes up to his chest and it worries Saitama a bit.

“I’m going to uh, watch the front door now. Fare well?”

Mumen dips his head into a curt nod, “Yes. I shall send for you once dinner preparations are complete...It...It’s good to have you back Saitama.”

“Thanks.”

Genos is staring at him, still on the floor, before he leaps up, “I AM GOING TO ACCOMPANY YOU MASTER!”

“No need to shout, dude. I’m like not even a foot away from you.”

“Ah, Lord Genos, allow me to accompany you until I can send for a knight to chaperone you.”

Bewildered, Saitama asks, “Has the front door become a death trap or something? Why does he need a guard? He’s a wizard apprentice?”

Genos steps toward his cousin, drawing up to his full height, “Saitama is right! It’s unnecessary!”

Mumen lifts his chin, smile oddly placating, “Unnecessary, but required. We don’t want our people to think that you...it’s a formality my lord. Please humor me.”

Genos crosses his arms and Saitama realizes that he’s irritated, his spaded tail flicking back and forth, “ I am a wizard of justice, cousin. I will do nothing to dishonor my name.”

Mumen looks to Saitama imploringly and he finds himself sighing yet again, “If you send anybody, send that Royale guy.”

Mumen smiles brightly, “Of course!”

“Geryuganshoop!”

While Mumen has a quiet conversation with the wraith, Genos draws close, arms crossed and head bowed, “My apologies, Master Saitama! I do not wish to encumber you.”

Saitama snorts, “Don’t worry about it. It’s different being King when people are watching you.”

Genos looks at him, and Saitama wonders if he always looks so stern or if it’s just his beastly visage that makes him look that way.

“Saitama, I know you passed your trial, but have you managed any magic since you have awakened?”

“You keep saying trial...but not really.”

Genos nods fiercely, “Training to use magic takes you to that other place the-“

“The dreamt place,” Saitama says, and Genos nods, “That isn’t...the Nethers. That’s what it is called.”

“So Rover comes from there?” Saitama asks him. Rover perks up at his name and starts pushing his cold nose into his hand. With a sigh, Saitama pats his head.

Genos nods, “Magic comes from being in tune with that place. It bends reality somewhere on the cusp between life and Death and by acclimating to it, you can bend reality here as well.”

“I...Okay. Makes sense.”

Saitama has not a clue what the other man is talking about. Bend reality?

Saitama realizes that Genos is still talking, “In order to perform magic, because it is a performance, it needs to be witnessed. It needs to be believed by the eyes in order to manifest physically.”

“I, Yeah?”

“Oh yes! It is as much an art as it is a science and I do believe that-“

Saitama doesn’t mean to tune Genos out. He tries to listen, but for all he knows, the young man could be speaking in tongues.

“Genos...do you think I really need magic to break the curse?”

Genos looks at him, bewildered, “Yes? Magic can only be resolved with other Magics!”

Saitama sighs. It doesn’t make sense.

“Then why have I been able to break all this magic stuff when I haven’t had any for the longest time?”

Genos peers at him curiously, taking a step forward, “ I...can’t ever imagine approaching your level of strength, Master...However, I believe you are naturally using it rather than applying it.”

Saitama grins, “Like a dragon.”

Genos ducks his head, “Like a dragon.”

He sees Genos reach out, and wishes he would have stopped him as soon as his fingers curl over his bicep. His eyes become locked on the other man’s until he speaks. Then they focus on the curl of his crooked mouth into a smile.

That’s right.

Genos’s line has dragon blood.

It makes sense that he would know things like that.

Mumen coughs and Saitama and Genos break their stare and whatever lay between it to look at him.

Saitama sees his brother and can’t help a grin, “I’m back.”

King’s mouth has gone wobbly, face belying his relief, “ Lord Saitama...it’s good to have you back.”

Saitama grins, seeing the slight dip of his shoulders the hunch of his posture. His brother had been obviously worried and Saitama is more than glad to see him. To see a piece of home instead of this gaudy castle or the dark nether woodlands.

They have never been a family with much physical contact, so when King draws forward to pat Saitama on the back it surprises him, “Don’t do that again. I’m begging you, dude.”

Saitama is a little stunned, but gives an awkward, “Well, it’s not like I meant to!”

“Bro.” King says emphatically and then Saitama sees Mumen’s face. He is frowning again, “By the way. You never mentioned Royale was your brother. Why?”

Saitama freezes, looking to King for help, but he realizes he isn’t the one that needs saving when he notices King’s trembling hand on his shoulder.

“I thought you knew.” Saitama says and then realizes too late that by saying that, it makes it seem as if King should have told them.

Saitama backtracks, making it up as he goes, melding what he knows and what he figures into an approximation of what is happening here, “ He’s my half-brother so he’s a free agent now that the kingdom is gone, uh. Yeah. So he’s fine to do whatever.”

King’s eyes glimmer and Saitama knows he’s got his brother a good foundation to lie on.

He almost snorts at his own joke, but manages a look of indifference. It almost feels like a homecoming, with he and King on the same side.

That’s right.

Saitama knows now, he doesn’t have to change his plan. He doesn’t have to worry about what he will do now, how much time he has lost, or the way Genos looks at him. He can leave those worries for his future self and focus on saving the things in front of him.

He finds comfort in this familiarity.

King noticeably relaxes, “ It’s as I said. I’m sorry for not bringing this to light sooner, it never seemed like the right time-“

“And what you mean by that is that it never seemed advantageous for you.”

Saitama turns at Fubuki’s voice. She rounds the corner, three people Saitama feels like he should know flanking her dark figure. Having not seen her for so long, the wear on her body startles him. Yellowed, cracked porcelain, and rusted hinges and feathers. He can see the lines of each feather highlighted in crumbled, burnt-orange.

Her legs creak as she walks and suddenly, she’s at Genos’s side, eyes wide when she sees Saitama, “So...you’re awake.”

Saitama nods, “Yeah, I still have things to do.”

Fubuki hums, “And you are seeking counsel with mine King, before his vizier is present?”

Saitama is suddenly sure a headache is coming on.

One brought about by formalities that are also familiar.

“We don’t even have a kingdom.”

“You have your blood, “Mumen says simply and Saitama’s hair stands on end. His eyes flick to shadows, Sure he will see the dark figure, but there is nothing.

There is just the pit in his stomach and the people here for company. His blood. Right.

His traitorous blood that was only magic when it wanted to be.

“Saitama is beyond the scope of a kingdom. He’s a High Wizard.” Genos says.

King looks to Saitama, heart audibly quickening. It is the only sound betwixt them.

Why not? If they want to claim as such he will just waste time and energy refuting it, “Yup. So uh, I’ll be off then!”

Saitama trots away and soon Genos is catching up, stride easily overtaking Saitama’s and he curses his height. He sees the others draw close to one another, eyes watching as they murmur among themselves.

He is tugged by his cape and turns to see Rover whining through his nose and teeth clamped over the fabric. Saitama pets his head and the hound tugs at his cape to try and pull him back.

“Did you miss me that bad?” Saitama laughs, “Want to go? You want to come with us?”

Rover’s ears perk up, but as Saitama follows the metal man, Rover growls and Saitama groans, “Fine. Just. Stay here. Okay bud? Sit.”

With a whine, Rover drops onto his haunches and looks pitiful. His eight white eyes go wide and despite the fact he’s a hell Beast, Saitama’s heart melts and he gives a lingering pat to his head before he follows Genos.

“I’m sorry for that, Master.” Genos says seriously and Saitama sighs.

“You keep calling me that.”

Genos nods, “Of course. I want to remain respectful of you.”

“Can’t you find a different way? I mean just Saitama is fine.”

Genos’s voice is soft, “Of course sir.”

That raises hair on Saitama’s arms and he hates it, “Okay, stop. Just...”

Genos looks frustrated and he realizes that this is important to Genos even if he hates formalities himself, “Just...why? I’m clearly less skilled in magic than you.”

Genos sweeps forward, grin wide, “Just in the mechanics of magic, master! In raw strength and potential, there are none that could match you!”

Saitama can’t help his budding excitement, “Oh yeah? How do you know?”

Genos hums, “When you were injured. Before you fell asleep...your blood was singing. Not literally of course, but it was like...like a pull. As if you were a magnet for magical things.”

Saitama shakes his head, “I’ve never heard of anything like that. And I’ve traveled a lot.”

The king looks straight ahead as he talks, “ Me neither. The Magic will always sing...but that magnetic pull is something other entirely.”

That explains Genos’s interest. Somehow Saitama feels disappointed, but what he was expecting...he doesn’t know.

His feelings are a tangle of roots that run too deep for him to bother dredging up. He leaves it and let’s the knot coil tighter in his heart.

Genos plods on beside him, “I’ve never met anyone like me.”

Saitama’s heart jumps from his chest right at his throat, “Like you?”

It sounds like he’s screaming it at the younger man.

Genos is smart, and kind and beautiful. He’s vengeful and sometimes petty. He’s nothing like Saitama.

“You travelled here didn’t you? You wanted to keep moving.”

Saitama doesn’t say that the only reason he started was because he couldn’t go home.

“You want to help people. You are a hero of justice. Just as I am a magi for justice!”

“Of justice?”

Genos nods curtly, “Yes. To right wrongs. To put things in balance.”

Saitama sighs. Genos is strange, pretty as he may be.

“You’re a weird guy, Genos.”

“I think not.” Genos says contrarily and Saitama laughs.

“Hey, so...I wanted to ask you-“ Saitama turns to his companion and is startled by the intensity Genos is staring at him with. His eyes are a maelstrom of heat and gold and Saitama gets unreasonably flustered when the other man leans in. As if he can’t hear him unless their shoulders are brushing.

Saitama goes on, “So I think-I mean I have cast a light spell, when...I was able to cast it, but I don’t know how.”

Genos hums, “Strong feelings invoke magic. It responds to things that affect the psyche. It uses those things as a conduit to draw forth from the Nethers.”

“I...okay.”

“Did I answer your question?”

Saitama feels at a loss, like he has taken a misstep, “No. I mean I get it? But I don’t know what that could be. Magic has never worked for me and suddenly, I was able to-“

Did he really call the deer?

Or was it a dream?

They arrive before the golden door and Saitama feels stupid, as they draw close and he clearly sees the calendar in its design. The different moving cogs and their great number of interlocking teeth.

This is the real Beast.

He counts, shushing Genos when he tries to speak.

“What day is it today?”

Genos answers and Saitama’s heart chills in his chest.

“The winter solstice...that’s the last day.”

“Oh.” Genos says, “We must get to work immediately. That’s only-“

“C’mon man, don’t say it! Damn it!”

Looking at the turning wheels and struts he suddenly feels as if he is watching a steadily running hourglass with hardly any sand left to fall. His mind is racing. How does he fix this? What does he do? What can he do?

Death has stolen so much time from him, and now there is hardly anything to grasp at. He doesn’t have time to learn how to use his magic. They don’t have months. They don’t even have days. Hours. Minutes.

The year is almost up.

Except.

“Hey Genos?”

Genos’s looks to him, and Saitama’s heart aches for a hand at his jaw, for the feeling of a cheek laid into the backs of his hands and he doesn’t know if he should, but he asks, “I need to look at your body.”

Genos blinks in surprise, before his eyes narrow as he nods and Saitama splutters when he begins to disrobe, “Not here! I-Your gears I need to look at them to see-“

Genos rights his cloak and beckons Saitama to follow, “ I know a place.”

He follows Genos down familiar hallways and Saitama notes the differences between then and last time he followed Genos this way.

The carpets no longer produce dust with every step and the curtains are drawn. The weak winter sunlight fills the hallway with a gray gloom. Through the towering windows, he sees the vast expanse of the snow capped trees. He can see the mountains in the distance now that they are bare. Frost clings to the windows and Saitama mourns the loss of time, wrenching his eyes away to see Genos slotting a key into a familiar door.

He opens it and gestures that Saitama enter.

It is a storage room that has been converted to a work space. There is a large, battered oak table with sturdy legs and a thick surface. There is a loom in the corner and a crate of neatly arranged bolts of fabric. In the corner of the room closest to the door is a battered mannequin. There is a huge crack in its wooden side that has been filled and covered with what appears to be plaster.

The room is neat, dust free. Scissors and an assortment of sewing needles are laid out on parchment paper in a neat row. Genos ignores these things to slip off his cloak, catch it with his tail and lay it over the chair in front of the desk after he closes the door.

Genos starts unbuttoning his doublet and Saitama turns away quick. Still, he hears the rustling of fabric and the particular clicking of Genos’s metal fingers against the brass buttons. Then there’s the rasp of metal on metal and Saitama swallows hard.

He tries not to think how Genos didn’t even question it. That Genos lead him here but he would have done this in the foyer, surrounded by the grandeur of gold and marble. A treasure within an entire castle of treasure. His face burns and he presses a hand to it, seeking the cold relief of his leather gloves.

Genos trusts him and he wonders if the man isn’t too trusting?

Should he be this naive for a king?

“Saitama?”

He turns and his breath catches on the snags of Genos’s body. Gone is Genos’s gold, all except his eyes that still keep that particular, scintillating shade.

Everything else is swathed in black and inky grays. Saitama’s eyes trace the swell of his broad shoulders, the twisted metal that curls and zigzags over his frame to create contours in imitation of muscle. His eyes draw lines over his stomach, slip down the gentle jut of his hips and skip off of the visible vertebrae of his tail that flicks back and forth.

Genos goes to cover himself, to grab for his cloak, but Saitama grabs his wrist, a firm but gentle hold and Saitama’s other hand hesitates, “Is this okay?”

Genos’s eyes are wide,  rimmed with a thin sheen of oily tears. He stares before ducking his head, eyes almost shy as he looks from out the corner, “Yes, S-Saitama.”

Saitama feels like he’s gone mad.

He still has Genos’s wrist and his other hand greedily maps plates of metal, and his fingers find new and exciting grooves to dig into. Genos starts trembling and Saitama asks, “Can you feel it?”

Genos shakes his head, deep voice trilling up an octave, “No, but-What-What are you looking for?”

Saitama remembers himself and feels shame well up. His face burns and he is sure Genos knows his groping for what it is. He’s sure that the other man will pull away but instead, he presses into his palm, metal warm, “Saitama?”

His name sounds so dark on Genos’s tongue as he has never heard it said before.

“I’m not sure.” Saitama admits, “Is there some way to open these panels without-uh bending the metal out of shape too much?”

Genos nods, straightening up and Saitama realizes two things. He still has hold of the other man’s wrist, and that Genos’s other hand was gripping the table for support.

He can’t help that wishful, desire laden thoughts swell big in his chest, like a great tide pulling him out to sea.

Genos draws a clawed hand over his chest and Saitama sees the small, diamond shaped key port.

Again, he wonders why it is there when Genos has done just fine without a key.

“ _Unfurl_.” Genos murmurs and the metal twists and unfolds like some bizarre metal flower. Saitama gasps at what lays within the cavity of the man’s chest and he freezes, wanting to touch, to travel this new terrain with his fingers.

Within a tangle of gold and brass, is the mechanisms of Genos’s mechanical heart.

“Can I?” Saitama asks, and he can’t help the soft awe in his tone. Genos smiles, small and mischievous, “Can you?”

Saitama snorts, “May I?”

The other man leans back against the table, “You may.”

Saitama descends upon him.

At first he thinks to touch just like this, but he thinks of the constantly spinning gear. He takes a moment to tug off his gloves and toss them carelessly onto the table. Genos stumbles back and Saitama grabs a gnarled hip in hand to steady him as he traces the lines of cogs and winds fingers around struts to move them this way and that. He moves delicately around the big mechanism, gently tugging and poking at the warm metal. Genos’s eyes don’t stray from him, and Saitama finds himself brushing a thumb over his hip.

He stops, feeling almost like a creep until one of Genos’s hands grabs at his cape and he lets loose a soft sigh.

Right.

He shouldn’t take forever. He has already indulged more than what is appropriate. He has already overstepped and makes his next observations quickly. Then, he sees it. The gear that doesn’t stop. The gear that keeps Genos animate and the gear that was found in all the castle resident’s bodies. He wedges his finger in between the crook of two gears and ends up having to wiggle his way through to touch it. He bites back a hiss of pain as he pulls back his finger that has been scored through and pops it into his mouth.

“SAITAMA!”

Nothing happens, but Genos is muttering a quick spell and the confines of his chest are hidden by interlocking metal.

“Why would you do that?! You have just now woken up how could-“

“I thought it would work. You’re the one the curse is targeting the most. So...”

Genos’s voice is a venomous hiss and he draws himself to his full height, towering over Saitama, “Never. Do something like that again. Especially on my behalf.”

Saitama takes his finger from his mouth to grab his gloves, but Genos snatches his wrist into an iron grip, “Promise me.”

Saitama snorts, “No way, man. If that’s what it takes then that’s what I’ll do.“

Genos looks stricken. His eyes are blown wide and before Saitama can say anything else, Genos shoves him, “Get out.”

“Genos-what-“

“Leave! NOW.”

Saitama grabs his gloves and then the king is hurriedly pulling on his clothes. Saitama leaves the workroom, head reeling. He figures he might as well catch up with his brother before the king exits the work room and says lowly, “Leave the castle at once.”

“Genos?”

“I don’t need you, I figured it out you can go.”

Saitama grins, “You did it?! Then change back! We need to tell everyone-!”

Genos grabs his arm, “No. You’re leaving. We don’t...need you anymore.”

Saitama freezes. It’s like when he fully processes what has been said, the air leaves him. He tries for a smile and knows it’s a weak one if not a grimace, “Makes sense.”

He still lingers, looking at Genos. He looks at his ugly mug and then has to look away. Like being taken away from the warmth of a fire, his body cools. Something light, but vast fills his head like fog and he nods.

“Well I should at least tell-“

Genos starts walking and tugs Saitama into following him, “No. You will leave at once. Never come back to this place Saitama.”

“Genos, please tell Royale-“

What about his brother?

Genos freezes, “He’s your brother.”

“Yes I need to see him.” Saitama slowly feels something ugly and desperate fill his words, claw at his chest, “ Why do I have to-“

“The West Wing is forbidden. I told you. You still went against my wishes.”

Saitama’s words die on his lips. His veins have frozen to ice in the winter chill, “Genos-“

“It’s Lord Gildreth to you, miser prince. Liar.”

And Saitama has no words for the sudden misery that takes him. Despair pools cold in his heart and his eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I thought I could forgive you. I cannot.”

Saitama goes, as Genos tugs him along.

He has no appeal he could make. And just a few minutes ago had he not taken advantage of Genos’s kindness? Of his trust?

Over and over again.

He had caused the young man nothing but more and more heartache. Has caused him no end of trouble.

There was still one more knight missing.

Metal Knight.

There was still the matter of who that revenant used to be.

Now, these things were lost to him and didn’t matter.

Even the mountains, and what lay beyond held no interest.

He had nothing and no one.

He had failed to do anything.

Again, they went through the foyer and Saitama whispered, “Geryuganshoop. Tell Royale goodbye...”

“He cannot hear you.” Genos said curtly and Saitama walked on his own to the door.

He gripped the handles tight, and pulled.  
Eventually, with a great crunch of metal and with the crack of hinges, the door gave way for him and he stepped out into winter before He remembered, “My pack!”

Genos waved a hand and made a tugging motion and his rucksack hurtled straight into his palm only to be tossed onto the stairs with a clatter as everything spilled out of it. The door slammed behind him and Saitama’s knees buckled. He was shaking as he gathered his things.

Hides, the map, his compass, his knife, the wafers.

He was shoving a hide into his bag when he felt something hard and round wrapped in it.

No way.

With dread, he unwrapped it and gawked at the sight of his mirror. Saitama threw the rest of his things into his pack and nearly slipped down the snow covered stairs as he tore his way across the field to the particular tree. He saw the snow, his tracks were covered by now and again, the headstone was buried in snow. Again, he started digging, only then realizing that his gloves were tucked into his belt. He went to grab them, but something in his gut lurched.

Forgoing his gloves, he starts digging.

He claws the snow out of the way and when he reaches the dead, frozen grass, he doesn’t believe it. He clears the snow in huge swaths over the grave, but it is undisturbed.

It makes no sense.

He grips the mirror in hands that hurt and prickle from exposure to the cold and mutters, “Show me my heart’s desire.”

His body is just a vessel for the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside of him. It should work, Genos said so. Never has he suffered a wound like this. Invisible, but debilitating.

Nothing happens.

“Show me!”

But the glass and silver remain as they are and he drops it to sob into his knees.

Why?

Why was he born like this at all?

He lifts himself up, dusts snow from his knees and notes that the snow hasn’t saturated the leather of his armor. Instead he’s warm, everywhere except his uncovered hands and head. He pulls his hood up. He tugs on his gloves.

He tucks the mirror under his arm. He looks overhead to the great expanse of the sky, that never ending stretch of gray where the clouds and sky color are indistinguishable from one another.

He feels small. Alone.

At least Kuseno has enchanted his armo-Kuseno!

He should at least tell Kuseno about the curse being broken! As thanks for the changes to his armor, he should give him the mirror?

He looks at it, then Sonic’s grave. He steps forward to put it back, but there is a huge gust of wind that tugs back his hood. And he gets a bad feeling as he sets the mirror down.

He turns his back and tries to leave, but has only taken a few steps before he goes back to retrieve it.

Even with the mirror in hand, that feeling of unease doesn’t leave.

Saitama set out, boots packing down the snow with a crunch on every step. His breath clouded on the air and he pulled up his hood to cover his ears and head. Again he mourned his hair loss and sighed. He decided to tuck the mirror away for now and headed east.

Except.

The woods were still as he reached the tree line. He looked for crows and saw none. He wondered if he really could leave, just like that or if he would get turned around. Taking a deep breath, Saitama followed the broken trail he had made in the trees only a few months ago when he saw the odd rounded depression in the snow. As he cautiously set one foot on it, he realized that this was where he and Genos fought last but isn’t sure.

He digs down in the snow until his fingers close around something angular and smooth.

A piece of glass.

He tucks it away into his pack, carefully wrapping it and not wanting to examine why. Having no time or care to self reflect, the hunter presses on.

There are no signs of any animals that he can see or hear.

And at first, he thinks it’s because he is in an open space with no hiding places. It’s also winter. As he reaches the end of the cut down trees and begins his trek, he finds that that isn’t the case at all.

The keys gleam still as they hang from the trees and Saitama doesn’t feel the urge to grab any. He takes the keys hidden in the side pocket of his pack and tosses them onto the ground with a great clatter.

He is startled at the sound and his ears reverberated with it long after. It’s the only sound he hears besides the crushing of ice and snowfall under his boots.

That’s why he startles hard when he hears the flapping of wings and nearly falls when he whips his body around in fear.

There’s a crow.

It sits on the branch and turns its head to look at him, but says nothing. Heart pounding in his ears, he waits. The crow just sits there and he turns to walk on, feeling those beady eyes on him.

He sees another crow.

Just as he picks up the pace, he sees it. Twin pinpricks of red and a black figure. A pale figure in the snow with jet black hair and an ashy complexion.

Both of them.

The revenant points and Saitama looks to Death, who is smiling, axe lazily dropped so he can lean on it like a cane, “So.”

Saitama’s ears burn with the cold. With a voice that is winter incarnate, He speaks, “Solved it did you?”

“No.” his voice is weak, just a hoarse whisper, but Death hears it.

He _knows_.

Saitama never doubts that.

“Genos solved it.”

Death hums, face unreadable, “I’ll see you in the morning Saitama.”

Puzzled, Saitama just says back, “Well, uh I’ll be going now?”

“To where?” Death asks and Saitama knows he shouldn’t say. Even if Death knows.

He doesn’t know what counts as an invitation anymore when it comes to this entity before him.

Saitama shrugs, “Where I want I guess.”

Death is gone soon as he blinks. The dark figure remains and Saitama almost screams. He was expecting it to be gone as well, instead, it whispers.

_Are you dreaming again, Saitama?_

“No!” Saitama says adamantly. He isn’t, and knows.

The creature hums, “But you see me.”

And Saitama doesn’t have an answer for that.

“He gave you a second gift. You can’t freeze to Death, but you are losing time Saitama.”

“THEN STOP WASTING MY TIME AND WAKE ME UP! If you actually want to help, then help!”

The creature makes a horrific snapping sound and Saitama almost apologizes before it speaks again, “ I am. You didn’t know before I asked you, did you?”

Before Saitama can speak, it goes on, “So we can safely assume that I truly have helped you because now you will find a way to wake yourself up, won’t you?”

Saitama bristles, “Who the hell are you?”

“You mean what.”

Flummoxed, Saitama answers, “A revenant.”

It’s voice is low, and hollow, “ I suppose. I was barely a person when I was alive.”

“You lived in the castle.” Saitama says. The memories here are hazy and hard to dredge up.

The creature nods, “I...killed people in that castle.”

It goes on, “I don’t even remember it. But it was truly me.”

Saitama lunges forward and rips the tree from its roots, throwing it to the ground before he is combing his way through the branches.

“I was enchanted as Genos was. A different kind of beast, albeit with less autonomy.”

“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING?!” Saitama looks around, but the voice is nowhere and everywhere all at once. It curls in his soul like poison unfurling in a bloodstream.

“You can still save him Saitama. You can save him and find Metal Knight. Now go!”

Saitama gasps, snow flecking his face from a white-gray sky. His head is chilled and as a result, he has a headache. He shuts his eyes and lays there for a moment before he springs up, heart in his mouth. What if he had fallen asleep again? What if-

He hears the crushing of plants under heavy boots. He steps forward, curious before the sound of booming voices give him pause.

“Why are we still here? Night will be upon us soon! Let us go back! He’s probably dead, brother!”

The other voice answers just as loudly, “Tank Top Master wants people to look, so we’re looking!”

The other voice huffs, “It’s been months. None of us have even set eyes on the castle! It’s a waste of time! No matter what direction you go, you end up in circles! That’s how it’s been since we left!”

Stomach in knots, Saitama steps forward.

“You!?”

“GHOST!”

Saitama snorts, “Yo! Long time no see!”

Even in winter they are wearing those sleeveless brocades and Saitama thinks it must be true that idiots’ blood runs hot. Himself included.

He fell asleep in the snow twice now and lived to tell the tale.

He doesn’t recognize them, but with his memory for people he hadn’t expected to. They are both tall and broad as two men each. One with jet black hair and a rugged face where as the other’s features are sharper, his hair lined in both streaks of auburn and black.

“YOU! You...”

There’s a silence and Saitama fills it, “Yeah? I was just headed back to tell Kuseno Genos said he broke the curse.”

The Tank Tops share a look before they beckon him forward, “Well. Come one then. We can end this dumb patrol early.”

Saitama walks with them, and the two men are surprisingly quiet. They keep glancing back at him, and finally Saitama has had enough. He goes to tap one on the shoulder and has to dodge a fist thrown at his face. It hits too wide and he skips back angrily, “Why?!”

“Get back, warlock!”

“Yeah! We’ll take you out here and now!”

The one with black hair tries to hit him, but he catches his hand and wrenches his hand back toward his wrist and then, the other man is yelping, “L-LET GO! BROTHER! BROTHER HELP!”

Instead of helping, the other man bolts. The man at his mercy whimpers and with a sigh, Saitama shoves him away.

“I’ll find my own way back then, thanks.”

“Wait you can’t leave me here by myself! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!”

“You won’t? Just head that way.”

“Easy for a boy-witch to say!” The man grouses and Saitama rolls his eyes.

“I’m not a warlock.”

“Whether you are or not I know you didn’t break that curse! You’re a liar!”

Saitama sighs, “ I never said I did that was Genos-“

“Then tell me why we were walking around in circles? The curse is still here.”

“If...if you say so.” Saitama says and he starts walking east again. The dark haired man follows him at a distance and the sky starts to darken as they reach the line of trees.

He sees the break in the trees and the small bridge. Immediately, the other man runs past him to the other side. He stands there and laughs, “Just try crossing, witch!”

Saitama looks out toward the mushroom houses topped with snow. Lights can be seen from covered windows and beyond are the plains. And beyond that are the moors, and beyond that are woods and then the sequoia forest, he knows. Then after that you could head northeast to the coasts where they build houses from the bones of giants. And from the there, if you head mainland, toward the Great Dreamer constellation, eventually you would encounter a great pit.

The quartz mine.

And around the outer edges carved right into the sides of the quarry would be his home. Zedread.

The wind pulls him forward, but his heart makes him look over his shoulder. Back into the woods.

Saitama closes his eyes with a sigh.

That part of his life is over now.

He looks to his right, toward the mountain, but this close to the trees it is out of view.

He doesn’t know what is over there. He just knows he can circumvent the mountains and that doing so is the safest route. He has heard that the buildings over the mountains are cobbled together with small stones and concrete. That the elves build things out of white stone that cannot be weathered. That there are storms that can rip you and houses from their foundations. Places where lightning strikes twice and there are a great number of creatures that walk like men do.

That there are beasts to be hunted, hides to be sold, small settlements in need of protection while they establish themselves.

Saitama knows this but before, when he would just roll his shoulders and think, “Sure. That’s fine,” instead he looks back again with open eyes.

What will Genos do now that he is free?

Mumen and Sonic both had mentioned his travels in search for the mad wizard. Where might a person like that hide?

Except the mad wizard may not have been.

He thinks of the revenant’s declaration and wonders if that was the murderer’s puppet, then where was the one pulling the strings?

A madness seizes his heart. He can see the revenant. Perhaps, using him, he can find the mad wizard. And perhaps Genos would-

Even if he did, Genos would not owe him anything. That thought does not quell his desire to help and he knows that should he find him, it would be Genos’s right to dispatch him.

But he still daydreams of traveling together. Of fighting alongside one another, bickering and telling Genos more stories yet.

A fanciful imagining takes his breath away and Saitama feels lonely, as he has not had the chance to. He doesn’t want to focus on the feelings taking over his heart, or the despair his bones are steeped in.

He’s never really had a friend to lose before. He doesn’t know if this is something you can fix and wonders why Genos had so suddenly cast him out. Except he does know.

There are just some lines you should not cross even if your feelings of friendship cross into something more...

He walks to the bridge, runs a glove through the soot covered railing all the way to side with none. There’s that feeling of having missed a step as he crosses the middle and he looks back to the woods again, noting the darkening sky.

He’s got nothing really to look forward to anyway.

Right?

He steps off the bridge into get more snow. He has to step high, shorten his stride. The snow goes up a bit past his ankles and he doesn’t want to slip.

The dark haired man is nowhere to be seen, but he knows where he’s gone. Again, the sound of a flute can be heard from Kuseno’s place. Saitama follows down the empty main road and shoves open the door to much the same effect as last time.

The music stops.

The barmaid stops and the men gathered inside have gone quiet except the tallest,  broadest man.”

“Ah, hi uh...” Saitama cannot remember his name, and trails off into silence.

“Tank Top Master.” The taller man says kindly, “You’ve returned.”

Saitama nods, “That I did. I just wanted to speak to Kuseno.”

“DONT LET HIM! HE’S THE GHOST!” Saitama sees the black haired man standing in the back of the room.

“Yo!” Saitama greets him and he shrinks back, “I’m not a ghost I just spent a long time trying to lift that curse and Genos went and did it himself not to long ago so-“

“So we can go home?” The flute player steps forward, gold flute in hand and Saitama sees that she’s grown a bit taller.

Before Saitama can say anything the whole establishment becomes a cacophony of men shouting and cheering before Kuseno’s voice booms over them all, “FOOLS!”

The room grows darker and the old man descends the stair, “You would believe him when the woods remain unchanged? When those woods have become barren and our stomachs empty?”

Saitama frowns, “Genos said-“

“Then he lied. I would have known if the curse had been lifted and sent forth a party immediately!”

Saitama’s blood runs cold, “How? How can you be sure?”

Kuseno huffs, crossing his thin arms over his chest, “It’s a feeling. The hair raises on your arms anytime you set foot on that bridge. Death’s mark is there and the animals have fled. That castle is a magnet for things that have cheated Death. Why do you think you were able to go there?”

_Things just end up here._

Saitama is reeling.

“This is the last day.”

Kuseno storms over, face dark and voice sharp, “What?”

“I need to go back I-wait, the mirror! We can check in the mirror?!”

He tears the pack’s seams from the force with which he opens it, and the mirror clatters onto the wooden floor.

In a panic he asks, “Put a hand over mine?”

Kuseno looks suspicious so Saitama speaks, “Show me my heart’s desire. See? It doesn’t work.”

Kuseno puts a withered hand over his and Saitama repeats his request. This time, an image bleeds over the mirror’s surface.

Genos is standing in a doorway. From over his shoulder Saitama sees a ballroom filled with people dancing and spinning and laughing and merrymaking.

Young Zenko is at the piano, fingers skittering over the keys like metal spiders while Garou sits at a piano opposite her, playing what looks to be a simple melody. The women are in dresses twirling in vibrant colors. The tables are laden with food but no one is eating of course.

“A solstice festival-“

“Genos’s birthday.” Kuseno says, then, his voice goes weak, “ His twentieth birthday.”

Saitama’s heart stops, “When the clock hits midnight-“

Kuseno looks at him, eyes dark and full of tears, “ He will die.”

Saitama drops the mirror and runs from the inn, Kuseno calls after him, voice hoarse, “HOW WILL YOU MAKE IT? WE’RE OUT OF TIME!”

Saitama flips open his pocket watch, “ Less than an hour, ticking toward half“

He hears a sound that pierces his very soul. A howl that pitches itself high like a spear sent to split the sky.

It’s a sound of anguish. Of mourning yet to come. And Saitama knows exactly who made it. Somehow, his bones remember this sound from the river and he shouts, “ROVER! COME TO ME!”

The night is still.

The snowflakes are thick in the air, but he starts running towards the woods.

He reaches the bridge when he feels a hand at his elbow, “Have you gone mad?! Even if you could make it, what can you do?!”

He turns to Kuseno, “It doesn’t matter!”

“Doesn’t matter! You know not even the fundamentals of magic! If you go, you shall die!”

Saitama shrugs, “My brother is in there. And my friends!”

Saitama’s heart beat is a panicked stuttering in his chest and yet he still crosses the bridge. Something like dread closes in over his chest as he passes the middle of the bridge. And then he hears a labored gasp for air and turns to see that Kuseno’s has followed him.

The old Wizard offers a weak smile, “I’m not as strong as I once was. Especially not at the end of my life so close to Death.”

Saitama is about to help him, but the old man whistles and then there is a great crashing of underbrush. A thundering of cloven hooves against snow before it emerges.

A King’s Deer. It sees Saitama and the white fur along its body bristles. Kuseno holds out a hand and the creature bends into a bow. With alacrity that Saitama doesn’t expect, Kuseno swings himself into its back and holds out a hand to Saitama.

As soon as the hunter steps forward, the beast lets loose a panicked whinny. Saitama backs off as Kuseno tries to calm the beast when he turns to the woods. He needs to get there and fast. He doesn’t know if calling the deer was a dream, but it’s frightened of him like most animals are. He looks out into the dark quiet of the woods and sighs, “C’mon Rover.”

There’s a resounding whine and Kuseno’s Beast is so frightened the whites of its eyes are visible.

Saitama calls him again, “ROVER! C’MON BOY!”

A dark shape launches out and the beast is licking at Saitama with a tongue that scrapes like knives on his skin. He’s massive, one large paw spilling off Saitama’s shoulder and maw as wide as a cavern. The beast whines and whimpers, but Saitama gives him an affectionate pat before he is using the stiff quills of its pelt to clamor into its back.

Kuseno sounds awed, “That’s...a nether hound.”

Saitama hangs onto two quills and tugs them like reins towards the woods and Rover shakes his head to dislodge him, but complies, “Uh, Yeah let’s focus on getting back.”

Kuseno nods and Saitama tells Rover, “ We need to go home, dude. Back to the castle.”

With a snarl, Rover leaps into the woods.

And they fall weightless into the deep shadow of the woods. He hears Kuseno call out after him, distant and worried.

But they fall into a pit together and all he can feel is Rovers rough hide and the way his stomach is fluttering before they emerge and gravity comes back as Rover leaps out of a shadow, buoyant as if it were water. He takes a few heavy paces, jostling Saitama roughly a top his back before he dives into yet another shadow and they fall into it.

Saitama sees the revenant.

He panics, holding Rover more tightly and wondering.

Is he asleep?

Is this real?

They escape the dark and Saitama can see the way the forest is blanketed in snow and then he sees the castle and tumbles off of Rover’s back to take off running.

He leaps and bounds his way over, the frigid air pulling into his lungs sharp and crisp. His ears ache with the cold as his hood flies off. He races toward the large ornate doors that he has ripped open more times than he can count.

He rips the doors off their hinges and they open outward to hit the walls of the castle.

“GENOS!”

He storms in and Rover runs ahead of him with a yip.

Rover looks back over his shoulder and Saitama praises him, “Good boy!”

They take off, Saitama at Rover’s heels before he hears the clanging of metal and panicked shouts. Even the wide hallway seems cramped because Rover is larger than a draft horse. As they round the fourth corner Saitama realizes he can hear the shouting better and then, they see gleaming steel clockwork people spill from a door way.

The sound of panic reaches both he and Rover, but the knights are focused more on Rover than Saitama, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!”

Saitama races ahead and tells Rover, “GOOD BOY! SIT! Don’t fight! He’s with me!”

One of the knights runs back into the room and shouts the all clear and then Garou shoots out from behind the knights and decks him.

He realizes quickly that he shouldn’t have when he hears the crunch of steel against his cheek.

“YOU TOLD HIM!”

“I had to-“

“YOU LEFT!”

Saitama tries to walk past Garou, but the other man grabs his cape, “You liar!

“Saitama! How could you leave without telling me dude!”

He hears King and his relief is palpable, “Brother! You’re safe!”

King freezes, eyes wide and metal heart lurching, “ What do you mean safe?”

Garou is being dragged as Saitama walks forward, “What the hell are we safe from?!”

“Death.” Saitama says and Garou lets him go.

“No, we’re changing back at midnight.”

“What’s all this?! You’re ruining the solstice preparations-Saitama?”

Fubuki is in the doorway flanked by her lackeys and several curious party-goers, green eyes wide and Saitama asks, “Where’s Genos?”

“I don't know-“

Saitama runs off, and his heart sinks as the chime of the clock rings loud.

He hears the almost frantic notes of the piano, and then, the notes go sour.

There is the sound of many keys being struck at once and a man's scream cuts above the muffled gasps of shock,” ZENKO!”

There is a great crash of metal, like pots and pans being thrown and Saitama runs over the carpeted hall he turns the corner so quickly to return to the ballroom and with such force it leaves scars across the wood. The clamors and yells get louder and finally, he sees people spill from a wide doorway like trees collapsing into one another.

He leaps over them, ignoring the way their limbs twitch. The way they go still.

The way they are all still ticking away the last moments of their lives.

The way that soon they will just be heaps of precious stones and metal.

He sees Garou. He's easy to spot with his white gold next to the piano, but it was the sound that makes Saitama look.

It's a pained howl of hurt that pierces his frantically beating heart. Garou is clutching two people and Saitama recognizes the two siblings. Then, he can hear the strain and whir of the gears working his jaw open, but there is no sound.

“GENOS!”

Saitama steps over metal people and looks for the crown of horns. The dark cloak.

“GENOS!”

He had seen him in the doorway on the opposite end when he looked in the mirror with Kuseno so he runs.

He goes into the empty hall and suddenly hears Geryuganshoop,” Lord Saitama! Hurry! He's with me! Please!”

Saitama spins the other way so fast he falls and scrabbles on all fours for a moment to run the opposite way.

“He's headed toward you! HURRY!”

Hurry and what?! Saitama thinks desperately, but he bolts to the foyer and bursts out of the hallway door,” GENOS!? PLEASE ANSWER ME!”

He dashes to the painting door and throws it open and is met with a lit hallway.

He has no time to gawk and he leaps through the entryway. He runs to the end and slams through the door. There are the white slabs all around. In this room of gold-veined white marble, he sees the dark figure of the King at the edge of the water.

He isn't moving,” Genos?”

Saitama weaves his way around a few slabs before just hopping atop one and using them to cross the room. He reaches Genos's lifeless form and feels his throat close tight round his heart in his mouth,” Genos.”

He drops to his knees and gently pulls the metal man up into his arms. He deflates in relief when he hears the quiet whir of gears before they stutter to a stop.

“No, no, no, no!”

Saitama tears his cloak open and with fingers scrabbling against the metal chest, he looks for an opening before he mutters as Genos had,” Unfurl!”

Genos's chest remains as it is. Saitama, not knowing what to do, digs into his bag.

The glass. It gives him the idea.

He removes his gloves.

It shatters in his palm, and so he has to use teeth to break the skin. Smearing blood on the gears gets them turning again, albeit raggedly and just when he thinks that has done the trick, they skid to a halt like his heart in his chest. Crying out he pulls Genos into his lap. His arms fall and drag along the ground lifelessly. Metal scraping on stone and Saitama holds him more gently.

His eyes are closed peacefully and Saitama calls his name. A broken string of syllables that pitch his heart into a frenzy.

First because he had found the fabled monster.

Second because he was eager to please. To be recognized as someone more worthwhile. Someone worth the constant praise.

Third because he was beautiful.

Because he was thoughtful and kind.

Because because because.

He began to dig his fingers along Genos's chest, looking for a seam, a finger hold. For anything before his fingers punch holes through the metal in desperation. 

He's too far gone in his panic to regret the accident. Instead he pulls apart the chassis of Genos's metal and finds that the brass and gold gears are still. His hands move over them, poking here, grabbing and moving until he sees another gear spin. He winds wheels, aligns teeth. He manipulates struts and he sees the ever-spinning gear. It's dark with his blood but he squeezes his hand over the slowly turning gear and it keeps its pace.

Even as it is completely covered, it spins on, the spindle cutting through it bit by bit.

Still.

Still Genos will-

Genos is as good as-

The chime of the clock sounds over them and Saitama curls over Genos as if that could possibly protect him from Death itself.

Why did he think-

“Genos please! Please tell me what to do!”

Nothing. Another booming chime.

He presses close, brushing his forehead with his lips,” Please I need you. I love you please.”

Please please please.

He rocks with a dead man in his arms.

Hollow.

Hollow.

In this place so far removed from the world, Saitama is removed even further and weeps.

He holds Genos all the more tightly.

He kisses his forehead. It's soft and then.

The third strike of the clock there is something.

Cold and solid in his hand is something that digs into his open wound and he tears away from Genos to look.

A key.

He frantically brings it to the diamond shaped port in Genos's chest and misses.

Too much blood.

He slots in the key and turns as the clock chimes over them. It makes him frantic and he wrenches the key round and round until it can be turned no more and snaps into his palm.

The sound of the clock reverberates within the castle.

There is Geryuganshoop's wraith wail that hurts his ears.

It splinters his very bones, but he can't feel it.

Genos is dead.

He sobs into the crook of his shoulder. It's all serrated edges and pointed metal, but Saitama presses his face there and weeps. His tears slide down into the crevices and hollows of Genos's metal and he still loves him.

His body is boneless, made of nothing.

Like the slightest breeze could take him, but he doesn't care.

There is nothing for him here.

There is nothing beyond the mountain that could entice him.

There is nothing home that could draw him from this spot because home is right here.

Never has he been so compelled.

Even if it were a spell, it was at least something.

And now he has nothing.

No, he had nothing before and now this is much less. Less than nothing he sinks.

Something brushes his cheek and he buries his face further into Genos's shoulder.

That something, curls at his cheek and a low voice murmurs, hoarse and soft,” Saitama?”

The shoulder against his face reverberates with the sound and Saitama pulls back.

In his arms is a golden haired-

The person's hands hold his jaw and soft lips part on his name over and over before pressing to his own and Saitama tears himself away.

Th youth falls back, hitting the stone floor with a groan. His eyes are shut tight and Saitama sees tanned skin. Light freckles dust his arms and he is swathed in a torn, black. Cloak.

Cloak?

A cloak with velvet detail in a darker black.

The young man lifts himself to sitting, clutching his head,” Not accustomed to that hurting. Owww.”

His other arm. The left side of his chest.

They are a twist of interlocking metal pieces. The places where flesh and metal meet are detailed with runes and scripture and Saitama recognizes it for what it is even without the pit that opens in his stomach.

Magic.

The stranger looks at him and his voice is gone.

Amber colored eyes. Golden in the weak light of this place. Like the hardened sap of a tree, like honey in the sunlight, like molten gold, like-

“Genos?”

The youth is pretty. Wild, short hair like spun gold. A tall figure. He's lean and his eyes are pitted in an inky black that only serves to make the amber of his iris even more captivating.

The youth turns to him sharply, voice abrupt and attention absolute,” Yes master Saitama? I'm sorry if that was forward of me, but I heard you say-I could be certain that you said that my feelings were returned and I'm sorry if I mistakenly thought that a kiss was an appropriate action to take. Please ignore this embarrassing folly, this blunder-”

“GENOS!”

Saitama leaps us and Genos yelps as he is yanked upright before Saitama laughs and spins him around.

He feels buoyant and silly.

Relieved and his eyes fill with tears for an altogether different reason as he kisses Genos again and again on his ever-rambling mouth.

“S-Saitama!”

“You died!”

“No, not really I was very nearly-”

“Dude! Never do that again!”

“I wasn't planning it. I still have my life's work to-”

Saitama buries his face at Genos's throat. He smells like oil and something both musky and fragrant and sighs.

Genos holds him tightly, “ You said you loved me.”

Saitama flushes hot, embarrassed and emboldened,” Yeah.”

The admission leaves him light and feeling airy. Like being untethered and Genos pulls away, hands at Saitama's sides and smile dazzling,” Thank you.”

Genos leans forward, lips murmuring against Saitama's and Saitama lets him,” I love you, Saitama. From when you told me your determination to help I couldn't help but-”

“FROM WAY BACK WHEN!”

“OF COURSE!” Genos matches his tone, face completely serious,” OF COURSE! WHO COULD RESIST SUCH VALOR, SUCH COURAG-”

Saitama ducks his head and covers his mouth,” Okay stop. Enough of that-”

“What of the others?” Genos asks against his hand, and Saitama's heart goes cold.

His brother.

He grabs Genos's hand and tugs him along,” Let's go!”

“We could ask Geryugan-”

“Genos!”

Genos huffs and to Saitama's surprise, keeps pace and tightens his hold on his hand. Even so, with his other hand, he struggles to keep his torn cloak in place as they run down the hallway before getting frustrated and tearing it off completely.

Saitama trips over his own feet.

Geno's torso is dotted and marked with metal. It is both like and unlike the clock work that Saitama is used to, and he turns his head away though he would like to look. The metal melds seamlessly with flesh, only marked by the threads of spells and runes tattooed into the skin.

They run through halls and Saitama easily remembers the way to the ballroom this time.

As soon as they reach the mouth of the hallway, Genos collapses,” My people!”

“They're...human.” Saitama says, catching him easily. He's heavier than Saitama thought he would be. It's probably the metal prosthetics.

Thanks to the solstice celebration, they are all in elaborate dresses and suits. Men and women are helping each other up and the knights from earlier are removing armor and helping to calm people.

Before they can go on, the ground trembles. People scream as the earth thunders and Saitama shouts,” KING! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT!?”

“YES!”

Geryuganshoop screeches,” THE WEST TOWER! IT'S COLLAPSED!”

Genos startles and turns to Saitama,” The decayed magic! Come on!”

Before he can ask, Genos starts running and ignores the shouts of “LORD GENOS! YOU'RE SAFE!”

“HAIL LORD GENOS!”

“LORD GENOS WAS RIGHT!”

“OUR CURSE WAS BROKEN AS HE SAID!”

“HAIL!”

When they see Saitama there are shouts of,” OATHBREAKER!”

Sighing, he follows Genos and then sees they are headed outside.

As soon as Genos sets foot in the snow he slips and Saitama realizes he's barefoot and half naked.

“Dude, this was a dumb idea-”

“Cowl!” Genos hisses, and Saitama stops in his tracks as the metal of Genos's prosthetic arm slides over his body like a thin layer of skin.

Saitama pulls him up onto his feet and then they're running again, around the castle until.

The West Tower has collapsed in on itself and Saitama can see the inner walls of the intact pieces. They're covered in that black soot. And the surrounding snow has been marred with it.

“THERE! LOOK!” Genos cries out and Saitama sees it.

Whatever “it” is.

A dark beast made of the magic substrate rips itself from the tower and Saitama leaps forward.

He throws some seriousness into his punch.

The beast's explodes into a cloud of dust and Saitama can't see anything. He hears Genos scream,” INCINERATE!”

The substrate catches fire, but it remains dark. Like the fabric of the world has been cut away.

Revealing-

“GENOS GET BACK!”

Saitama falls into it when he lands.

It's the dreamt place.

And he sees the revenant, but Genos is also here, burning bright.

He isn't sleeping.

Genos catches him by his cloak and yanks him roughly so that he collides with him,” Saitama...we have to stay back!”

He leaps back onto the snow and Saitama clings to him,” Why?”

“I have a bad feeling.” Genos says quietly.

He looks over at it and,” Is that a person? HEY! ARE YOU-”

Genos's voice is a roar,” YOU. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

Saitama sees the figure and at first, he thinks it's a golem made from the substrate.

He has to grab Genos around his middle to keep him from charging, and Genos is clawing at his arm.

“Genos?”

“It's him.” he hisses, and he hasn't taken his eyes off of the figure. Saitama is about to look up, but Genos suddenly goes boneless in his arms, eyes wide.

“You?”

Genos's voice is a whisper, and Saitama's head snaps up, because he has never heard Genos whisper since he's met him.

There is a man within the substrate. He's about as old as Kuseno with teeth protruding over his bottom lip in an overbite. His hair is in a curly tuft wrapped around his head, and he reminds Saitama of a goblin, the way he grins.

“Hello, young Genos.”

Genos lunges, and Saitama holds him back from coming into contact with the substrate as he screams,” Why, Bofoi?!”

The old man sighs,” That...was an unfortunate accident.”

Genos screams,” All that's left is _me_!”

Saitama pushes Genos behind him,” It was _you_? You invited Death here?”

Bofoi laughs, “Fool. He's still here and he's going to take you instead of m-”

They both freeze when they see Him.

Saitama's mouth has gone dry and Death is there, at Bofoi's right,” A deal's a deal. You failed. It was them, or you.”

Bofoi's eyes go wide,” There's still time yet! Pleas-”

Death swings his axe and Bofoi falls.

There is the chattering of crows, the only sound in the quiet and Genos yells, in anguish and frustration.

Death is gone and Bofoi, the apparent necromancer, lays lifeless in the snow.

“He...that's why He told me he'd see me tomorrow.”

“What?” Genos asks after a moment and Saitama shrugs.

“Death told me He'd-”

“Young Saitama!”

Saitama turns to see Kuseno making his way over, before he stops.

Kuseno's eyes go wide,” Oh dear.”

“Master Kuseno...I failed. He got away from us.”

Kuseno frowns, looks beyond them to the snow and his voice is kind,” Oh Genos...”

Saitama realizes too late that Genos is crying and awkwardly starts patting him. Genos seems to take that as an invitation to drag him down into the snow, and Saitama brushes snow out of Genos's hair as he is clung to.

Kuseno trudges over, before sighing,” I'm just grateful, Genos. Because of you I lived to see this day.”

Genos sobs harder into Saitama's shoulder and Kuseno frowns,” I should have known it was Bofoi. All these years. Wasted. To think his squire was the Mad Wizard we were seeking.”

Genos looks up questioningly and Saitama thinks of how unfair it is that even when crying, he's still dazzling.

“Bofoi...it makes sense he was a necromancer. He never shared any of his secrets with the other High Wizards and now we know why. I thought he was an inept adept like Saitama.”

“A what?”

Kuseno gives him a long suffering look,” It's self-explana-hm...I suppose you could say that rather than reliably using images to create something with magic...you have trouble making an emotional connection when conjuring, so your magic manifests in unexpected ways.”

Genos looks up, and though his eyes are still full of tears, he's hanging onto Kuseno's every word,” Like a dragon.”

Kuseno laughs, and it's a bit before he grins at Genos, “Yes, actually.”

“So I was right, this means-”

“Genos, my boy. We'll talk about this when we're inside where it's warm.”

“Of course High Wizard!”

Kuseno chuckles and Saitama lets Genos go as the king scrambles to rise to his feet, “Allow me to announce you both!”

“Genos, you're the king.” Saitama starts, but Genos is already storming off.

Kuseno chuckles, “So excitable, that one.”

Saitama hums and the old wizard gestures grandly, “Shall we?”

“Uh, sure. Verily? We go-”

Kuseno stares at him, “Formalities are not your strong suit, Saitama. So, what will you do now that the curse has been broken hm?”

Saitama shrugs, “Um.”

“No answer? What were you doing before?”

“I was...a monster hunter for fun.”

Kuseno hums, “ Do you plan to court my boy?”

Saitama's heart leaps to his throat, “I want to.”

“But?”

Saitama shrugs, “ I have to ask him about it first. He's still pretty young. He might want to...”

Saitama makes a vague gesture and the High Wizard scoffs at him, “You're simple. Keep it simple. You're over-complicating matters.”

“How?”

“Focus on one thing at a time. Ask him first, then worry about the answer.”

Saitama grins, kicking up snow, “ I'm not worried about the answer. I'm worried he'll want to leave sooner than I want. He's sort of always doing things and after all this, I just want to relax.”

Kuseno laughs.

Saitama and Kuseno arrive to the sounds of trumpets and fanfare. Men and women throw confetti made of what appears to be gold flakes and Saitama plucks some from off of his shoulder to discover he's right. Bemoaning the squander of money, Saitama endures chants of he and Kuseno's names.

Kuseno turns to him and murmurs, “All this fanfare for just showing my face.”

Saitama decides he likes him.

The feast that was prepared for the Solstice is moved to the dining hall and Mumen has sent two scouts to send word to the Tank Top crew. People laugh and talk excitedly about the meals they can't wait to eat. About crops that need to be planted in spring. About all the sleep they have missed. Mumen frets over Genos and whisks him away to be dressed properly and Saitama lingers in the doorway.

He sees flesh and blood people living their lives, and feels out of place until-

“MR. SAITAMA! SIT WITH US!”

Saitama looks to the voice and then sees Zenko sitting with King, her brother and Garou. He crosses over to the table and hears someone say,” Zenko, that wasn't very lady-like” just to face Metal Bat's fierce indignation.

“MY SISTER IS MOST LADY-EST LADY PAL!”

She covers her face with her hands and Saitama laughs at her cry of, “Sit down big brother! You're so embarrassing!”

Garou shoves Badd aside by scooting into him and leaves a space for Saitama who sits across from King, “ What's with the armor?”

Saitama grabs one of the stacked plates and starts piling on a bit of everything, “I left my clothes at Kuseno's.”

Garou snickers, “ Mumen's going to attack you once he's done making a whole wardrobe for Genos.”

“LORD GENOS.” Badd and Zenko correct in tandem and Garou scowls.

Badd talks around a mouthful of food, “If ya wanna be a knight, then you gotta have some manners, man!”

Zenko makes a disgusted face and Saitama laughs.

“A knight huh?”

Garou rolls his eyes, “Not everyone can be a jobless hack and get by by marrying rich!”

“Hey!”

Zenko drops her fork, “YOU'RE MARRIED!? BUT LORD-”

Badd covers her mouth, and can't speak because his mouth is so full, looking at Saitama with wide eyes.

“It's fine.” Saitama says.

King hasn't spoken at all and Saitama pities him, having to sit so close to other people. He meets Saitama's eyes and speaks, “You realize you will have to declare yourself a King...right?”

Saitama shrugs, “That sounds like a problem for tomorrow's me.”

“Lord Saitama!” Saitama turns to see Mumen and he's glad to see him in one piece but...

His hair is brown, and his eyes are obscured by reflective glasses, “The dancing is about to start. You...since you do not have an attendant, I shall take care of it.”

The surrounding townspeople notice Mumen, some bowing their heads in respect and others staring at Saitama. Saitama sighs and stands, “ All right, lead the way man.”

Saitama is practically escorted out and is startled to see that there are two other people waiting outside the dining hall. They are smartly dressed men in steward attire and Saitama gets a pit in his stomach seeing them. He had thought he had left this life behind.

They shove him unceremoniously into a yellow, embroidered doublet and a long coat over it. He's about to protest it but Mumen makes the off hand comment, “I'm glad Genos made you something presentable for a winter ball.”

The other men nod and Saitama tries not to fidget as they button him into his clothes. He holds himself as he's supposed to and stares at the ceiling, “Does he just do that? Make clothes?”

He can tell Mumen is smiling without looking, “For himself, yes. He's very particular about his clothes.”

Saitama wants to tell them that he is too and would prefer breeches and a tunic, but keeps his mouth shut. He gets a glimpse of himself and has to admit that the clothes fit him like a glove. When they finish, he steps up to the mirror of the changing room and the light catches his long coat.

He swallows hard, watching his own face color red, but he doesn't want to look away to cover it.

He brushes fingers over silver thread, and can't help saying, “They're constellations.”

No one has ever given him such a gift before-

“MY DRAWING!”

“Lord Zedread?” Mumen says and Saitama remembers that it is rolled up in his pack. It's back at Kuseno's house and he's suddenly anxious to have it back. Hopefully someone thinks to bring it. He thinks of all the times the bag has been dropped and fears that the delicate charcoal drawing is damaged. At first he had thought it strange, but even Saitama knew how long Genos must have spent on that sketch. And now he knew how much of Genos went into his sketches from the pictures of his family.

“Saitama?” Mumen asks and Saitama is startled to hear his actual name and not a title.

“Sorry man, I just left my pack at Kuseno's.” Immediately he regrets saying so, because Mumen's eyes narrow seriously.

He turns to one of the stewards and murmurs quietly before turning to Saitama, grin bright, “ It will be taken care of!”

“You don't have to, I was just going to get it myself,” Saitama says and Mumen shakes his head.

“It's the least I can do,” Mumen says, then a bit sheepishly, “ I want to say that I'm sor-”

“Nope. No apologies, we're cool.”

Mumen frowns, “I don't think so Saitama, but I appreciate what you've done. Thank you.”

The hunter stares, not comprehending it.

“You don't have t-”

“I WANT TO.” Mumen says too loudly, and Saitama notes the way the other stewards avert their eyes and try to look busy. Embarrassed, he just sighs.

“Well, what time does the ball thing start.”

“Right now m'lud.” says one of the stewards and Saitama blanches. He would rather not go, but it doesn't seem like a viable option to leave.

“All right,” Saitama laughs, “How do I look.”

He's joking, but one of the stewards gets suddenly red faced, “Like a dream sir.”

He coughs and moves forward to head out of the room when Mumen agrees with him.

It's when he's on his way to the ballroom that he sees Kuseno, holding Rover, who is once again the size of a regular dog. Delighted, Saitama smiles, “Rover! You're tiny!”

The dog wriggles free with a whine and drops to the floor to bound across marble and launch himself at Saitama.

Kuseno's eyes go wide, “Tiny?”

Saitama hefts his hound into his arms and attempts to avoid getting licked, “Well you saw the size of him before!”

Kuseno smiles, “I suppose you're right. Nice get up.”

Saitama flushes. He can't help it when he knows that Genos made it for him, “Uh yeah.”

“Saitama...Genos is my ward. Ever since I followed that _thing_ to this place, he's been in my care. Now that the Mad Wizard is no more...I don't have much time left in this world. My boy, young Genos...you love him.”

Saitama can't help the smile,” I do.”

“Please make sure he takes care of himself. Promise me.”

Saitama nods, “I swear it.”

Kuseno smiles and Saitama realizes he can ask him about magic.

“Hey, so how do I stop ruining quartz? When I touch magic stuff it's not magic anymore?”

The old wizard hums, “That isn't something you can control...Not to upset you, but you were born under a certain sign. You are more attuned to the Hereafter than the mortal realm, Saitama.”

“So that means...”

“No.”

Saitama sighs and Kuseno goes on, “You absorb magic. The Hereafter is a 'no-magic' zone. You see, the Hereafter is close to Death and slowly drains the vitality from one's body. As a result-”

Saitama is staring at Kuseno, taking in his oddly domed, mushroom cap hair and long grey robe. His long nose and weathered skin. He's heard that wizards can live as long as the elves do and wonders if it's true. Will he live that long? He somehow still can't process what has been said. He doesn't _feel_ like a wizard.

“Saitama.”

He startles and his name and suddenly, Kuseno takes Rover from him, “Have fun at the ball, son.”

“Sure? Thanks.” He walks further down the hall and sees Fubuki. She's wearing a cloak to cover herself up and sees him, “Oh, it's you. Hi.”

Her lackeys look up from the paper in her hands and he sees that it's a map, “Hey, what are you up to?”

“Now that we're free? Leaving. You might want to do the same unless you want a scandal on your hands ha! You're...welcome to join my guild. I encourage it.”

“No thanks!” Saitama knows a recruitment speech when he hears one.

He's about to trot off when a familiar voice croons, “ What a propitious alignment of stars.”

Saitama turns to see her.

Psykos is pretty, her hair a pale aquamarine, but her eyes are somewhere on Saitama's face without making eye contact.

“Thank you lodestar. For guiding me back with your light.”

Saitama just nods, “ No problem.”

He practically runs to the ballroom before anyone else can stop him.

He hears the soft playing of a piano through the door and the chattering of people. A stewardess is standing sentry with a knight and she sees him and asks, “How would you like to be announced?”

“Uh, just Saitama. Wait no, Lord Zedread.”

The words drop like stones in his gut. Each syllable making him sicker, but the stewardess doesn;t seem to notice, nodding and turning to throw open the door. She opens her mouth but is interrupted by a loud announcement.

“ _ENTERING LORD SAITAMA OF ZEDREAD! HERO OF GILDRETH! LONG LIVE THE KING OF ZEDREAD! HERO TO ALL!_ ”

“Geryuganshoop!” Saitama hisses but the room breaks into great applause and Saitama is being clapped on the back, his hands are being shaken and it's a whirlwind of ruffles and finery until suddenly he is being ringed by the crowd and sees him.

“Genos.” it sounds breathless even to him. That Genos is his, is still a novelty that he's not sure will ever wear off. Especially when he looks and smiles at Saitama like he thinks the same of him.

Again, he is captivated by the honeyed gold of his eyes that crinkle as he smiles. He's dressed all in black with a single embroidered mark over his heart and Saitama can't help but run his fingers over it as Genos draws close. It's the reverse Hook constellation in threaded fliligree, and Genos slips his hand over Saitama's and says in a voice low and rough as velvet, “ For you.”

Saitama looks up from the Mark, to Genos and he doesn't know when the other man had gotten so close, but it's not even a proper thought to tilt his head up and offer himself. It's just a simple urge and Genos smiles as he takes his kiss.

He feels weightless when Genos holds him. He feels freer. Like the Mark doesn't matter and perhaps it doesn't.

Not anymore.

Before this, his life had been much less fun without as much light.

Saitama hears the soft gasps pour in like a wave and he remembers himself. He tries to pull away, but Genos just uses that momentum to swing him into a dance. Saitama's body remembers dancing better than his brain, and so he chooses to just exist in this moment and enjoy it.

Eventually, other people dance along, twirling like planets caught in their orbit.

“Saitama. I've done some thinking.”

Saitama can't help saying, “You're _always_ thinking.”

“That is true,” Genos says, but he swallows nervously and says quietly, “ We are both monarchs of our respective Kingdoms. Although, you are landless and most would think it was a disadvantage, when marrying another man it would not-”

“Yes.”

For once, Genos is speechless, and Saitama takes advantage of his loosened hold and takes the lead, twirling him with a laugh as they dance.

He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. He doesn't know what the future holds,

He just knows that it will be happy because he's home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story and so patiently waited for me and left me kudos and comments.
> 
> Thank you so much. I don't know if it was worth the wait or if you like it,
> 
> but I really hope you enjoyed yourself or had some fun reading.


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